Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic
by kLyn
Summary: An Alternative second season story. Michael is acting strangely, even for him. Maria needs a distraction. Chaos ensues... NOW COMPLETED.
1. Masques: Prologue/Chapter 1

--Disclaimer: Oh, come on. You don't really think that Michael, Maria and all the other characters from the Roswell books and show are mine, do you? They belong to Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and the good folks at the WB network. I'm only borrowing them.  
  
I also don't own the musical Little Shop of Horrors. It belongs to Alan Menken and the late Howard Ashman. Performance rights are available through Music Theatre International. Nor do I own the musical Oliver!, which belongs to Lionel Bart; I believe performance rights still go through Tams-Witmark Music Library, Inc.  
  
I do own Mark, Melanie, Pamela, Debbie, Ms. Bedinger, and assorted other people who you don't recognize from the TV show. 

--Distribution: Ask first, please. 

--Author's Notes: I had never written anything before. Well, other than some checks and the occasional Christmas card. But I got an idea one day last summer while stuck at a job with nothing to do...Six months later, I finished what became a humungously long story, which has a sequel on the way. 

So I guess you could say I had fun writing it. 

This is an alternative Season Two story, so nothing that's been broadcast during this season applies. Michael's hair is still spiky. And his apartment is much smaller than Season Two would have us believe. 

Special thanks to everyone at the Random Roswell Ramblings fanfiction board who gave me such great support and feedback, and to Emily and Kara for hosting the board in the first place; to Penny who listened to each new part as it came out and debated plot points over our cubicle divider; and to my sister who allowed me to 'entertain' her on both eight-hour legs of a Christmastime car trip by reading her the first two-thirds of the story (and who will no doubt be subjected to the sequel in bits and pieces, too. Sorry, sis.)  


  
  
  


PROLOGUE  


Killer. 

Killer. 

The word rages through his mind, never pausing. Incessant. Unstopping. He wakes with a sudden jerk, striving to escape the white-hot rage that surrounds him, pins him to the bed. He is awake, but the word is still there, pressing on him until he can hardly bear it. 

In desperation he pulls himself inward, trying to flee the word, the thought, the idea. It chases through his mind, taunting him until he can endure no more. He doesn't notice the blood on his palms or in his mouth. His will pushes, pushes...and SNAP! The word fades down into a low murmur in the back of his brain, so low he can barely hear it, although he knows it's there. He lies, panting, afraid to open his eyes, concentrating on breathing in...out...in...out...until finally his eyes flicker open to face the dim shadows of the room. 

He can no longer hear the word, but he knows it is still there. 

Killer.  
  
  


CHAPTER 1  


"Why can't things be normal?" Maria DeLuca complained to her best friend Liz Parker, who smiled sympathetically as they walked down the hall of West Roswell High. "I mean, with everything we've been through lately, you'd think we'd be granted just one week of normal. Everyone gets a break sometime! Isn't it our turn?" she pouted. 

Liz stopped by her locker and picked up her trig book as she thought over the grueling events of the previous spring and summer. "Maria," she said calmly, "things are pretty normal. At least normal to everyone else in Roswell. We go to school, we work at the Crashdown after school, and have the occasional Ben & Jerry bingefest...What's not normal about that?" 

"C'mon, Lizzy. I don't mean boring normal--you know, pre-Czechoslovakian normal. I'd be perfectly happy with 'Being Questioned By The Sheriff And Chased By The FBI' normal." She took a moment to actually hear what she'd just said. "On second thought, maybe I'd even settle for a week of boring normal." 

Liz studied Maria's face. "Is it Michael?" 

"Oh, please. Not everything in my life is about Michael!" the blonde scoffed. "Just because he hasn't so much as spoken to me in three and a half months..." Her voice trailed off and she let out a heartfelt sigh. "Yeah, so maybe it is Michael," she admitted. "Fine. He has this ridiculous idea that he's dangerous, that I'm going to get hurt by being around him, so he completely avoids me. I can't shake him out of it. It's driving me crazy, but you know Mr. Stone Wall Guerin. After everything that's happened, the least he could do is..." 

She stopped abruptly as she caught Liz's sympathetic glance. "Okay, you've only heard this rant about a million times already," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm just gonna sniff some cedar oil here, and calm down." She rummaged through her backpack for the oil, uncapped the tiny vial, and, breathing in, smiled shakily at Liz. "At least you and Max actually speak to each other." 

"Maria, it's not you. Max says Michael's been avoiding everyone else, too," Liz began, but was interrupted by a friendly voice from across the hall. 

"What's up, ladies?" 

"Maria's having another spazzout, Alex," answered Liz, smiling. 

"I am not spazzing out!" retorted Maria, giving Liz a friendly poke in the shoulder. "I am just trying to take my mind off things. You know, like be a normal teenager." 

"A normal teenager, huh?" Alex Whitman smiled. "Well then, I have the perfect opportunity for you. Made to order for Roswell's biggest drama queen, in fact." 

"Alex..." warned Liz. 

"No, seriously, Maria. Have you checked out the bulletin board today?" the gangly teen asked. 

"No. Why?" 

"Then come with me," he said, pulling her by the arm back down the hallway the way he'd come. Liz followed silently in their wake, her brown eyes curious. 

"What are you talking about, Alex?" Maria said as she was towed along. "And I am not a drama queen! I just, like, react fully to things, okay?" 

Alex snickered as he stopped before the large bulletin board on the wall outside the principal's office. "React fully, huh? Well, react to this, DeLuca!" 

"What?" Maria said, suspiciously eyeing a colorful poster tacked to the center of the board. "You want me to join the Latin Club? Please! I can barely stand English." 

"No, Maria, it's perfect for you," Liz said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. "Look." 

Liz pointed to an announcement pinned in the lower left-hand corner of the bulletin board. The headline read 

The West Roswell High School Drama Club  
announces auditions for its fall production of  
LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS

Maria stared at the flier for a moment and then slowly looked up at Alex, who was grinning at her. She glanced over at Liz, then back at Alex, shaking her head, before suddenly bursting into laughter. "Okay, let me get this straight, Alex," she said, gasping for breath. "You know just how happy I am with a certain...Czechoslovakian...and now you want me to hang out with one on stage? Even if said Czechoslovakian is a giant man-eating plant from outer space--Are you trying to make me insane?" 

"Hey, I'm just trying to tell you to go for it. You know, keep those vocal chords in shape until The Whits can get another gig. It'll put your singing ability to good use and keep you out of trouble at the same time," he said, straight-faced. 

"But I haven't been in a play since the fifth grade...and besides, Snow White wasn't exactly high art," she protested. "And I am not in trouble! Although you will be if you're not careful, Mr. Whitman," she added, a smile reducing the effect of her threat. 

Liz spoke up. "Maria, you wanted to do something normal. Well, this is normal. Why don't you try it? It might be fun." 

The light left Maria's eyes as she stared down at the floor. "Look, Liz, this is nice and all, but I don't think it's for me. Don't you remember how much stage fright I had when I tried singing with The Whits? Besides, I have to work after school, anyway, so I don't think--" 

"Don't think. Do. Just say yes!" quipped Alex. He looked at Liz, and raised one eyebrow. Liz's eyes narrowed slightly; then she gave a quick nod and turned to Maria. 

"So we'll rearrange your work schedule so your shifts don't conflict with rehearsals. It just so happens that I know the boss. I'll talk to him tonight." Liz grinned mischievously at her friend. 

"Now don't go jumping the gun here," Alex interrupted. "She has to audition first. Don't put the cart before the horse." 

A small spark of indignation coursed through Maria. "What, you don't think I can do it?" she said, giving him a mock glare. "It was your idea in the first place!" 

"Hey, don't go all Hurricane DeLuca with me," he replied, putting his hands out to shield himself from her wrath. "I break easily." 

Maria glanced from friend to friend and then shrugged nonchalantly. "You know, guys, you're going to have to work harder than that if you think you're going to get away with this sort of thing." She gave them an innocent look. "What? You didn't think I'd notice the tag-team attempt to cheer me up?" She turned to look again at the announcement flier. 

As two pairs of eyes met guiltily over her head, a wide smile slowly spread across Maria's face.  
  


*****

Maria swallowed one last time before looking out into the auditorium. Sure, she'd had stage fright before singing with Alex's band on the night of Liz's infamous blind date, but this felt even worse. The nausea and clammy hands were the same, but at least with the band, it was a bunch of them on stage. This was just her. Being watched. Judged. Her panicked eyes flickered out across the mostly empty seats in search of a familiar face, then settled on Liz, who nodded to her supportively. 

After a full week of hints, mock threats and bribes from her so-called two best friends, Maria had finally agreed to give the audition a shot. Truth to tell, she was actually kind of excited about it--at least up until this afternoon, when suddenly the dry, dusty town of Roswell, New Mexico seemed to put out to sea. And seventeen years in the desert had definitely not made her into a sailor; the shaky legs and queasy stomach that came along with this nerve-induced seasickness were a sure sign of that. Wishing she had her cedar oil, she dragged her attention away from her churning stomach and dry mouth and tried to get her mind in order for this suddenly mindnumbing ordeal. 

She'd chosen to sing 'As Long As He Needs Me' from the musical Oliver! for her audition piece. As a kid, she'd watched the movie over and over with her mom; it had been one of her favorites in the sixth grade. She wasn't sure what had caused her to think of the movie when she was hunting through some old sheet music books in search of an audition song, but was happy to find something that she could really put her heart into. 

Of course, Nancy was only bludgeoned to death by the man she loved. She didn't have to deal with a too stubborn for his own good, follicly-challenged loner from another planet...No, she was not going there! Audition time. She had to sing. Okay. She could do this. She could do this. Okay. She just had to breathe... 

Taking a shaky breath, she turned and nodded to Aaron Davis, who was playing the piano for the auditions. She had begged him a week earlier to make a tape of her song for her to practice with, and he had cheerfully agreed in return for the promise of a free Galaxy Melt and order of Saturn Rings at the Crashdown. Maria had practiced the song in her bedroom during every minute that was free from school or her waitress job. She'd even spent some time singing when she should have been doing homework, to the detriment of a French quiz grade. 

As Aaron began the song's intro, she looked out and caught Liz's eye, then looked down the row. Although Liz and Alex, in a fit of guilty remorse, had agreed to come along to the audition for moral support, Maria was surprised and pleased to see Isabel Evans sitting next to Alex. Isabel smiled warmly at her, Alex gave her a double thumbs-up, and she began to sing. 

"As long as he needs me  
Oh, yes, he does need me  
In spite of what you see  
I'm sure that he needs me..." 

Bill Sykes be damned, this could almost be about her and Michael. Thinking of the taciturn alien, she felt her nervousness melt away as her annoyance grew. Talk about being able to relate to a song. She loved a guy who couldn't, or wouldn't, give her what she wanted, what she needed. And yet that didn't change how she--or Nancy--felt. 

Caught up in her thoughts, Maria came to the end of the song, not quite remembering getting there. She looked up, almost startled, and saw Liz, Alex and Isabel applauding wildly for her. 

"Thank you, Maria," said Ms. Bedinger, the drama teacher. "Pamela Harris, you're next." 

Maria climbed down the stairs that led to the stage, and went to sit next to Liz. "That was great, Maria!" Liz whispered in to her ear as Pamela started to sing 'I Feel Pretty'. "I wish I could stay for the rest of your audition, but I've got to get to the Crashdown. I'm on the dinner shift today." 

"Thanks, Lizzy," Maria whispered back. "I'll give you a call tonight and let you know how the rest went." 

Liz gave her a big hug and snuck quietly up the aisle as Maria, along with the other auditionees, climbed back onto the stage to read some scenes from the play. 

An hour and a half later, a very tired Maria picked up her bookbag and walked to the back of the auditorium, where Alex and Isabel were now standing. Alex gave her a high five, saying, "Well, DeLuca, I expect to be fully acknowledged in your Oscar speech. Told you you could do it! Yessir, it was all my idea! Thank you, thank you, thank you." He took bows to an imaginary audience as Isabel shook her head at him. 

"You were great, Maria. I had no idea you could sing like that--or act! You have a great shot at getting a part," the tall blonde said with a smile. 

"Thanks, Isabel. Audrey will probably be played by a senior, like Pamela Harris. I'm just hoping to be one of the three doo-wop girls. It would be a lot of fun. Plus take my mind off...other things." 

"Well, I think you were fantastic. I'm really impressed," Isabel told her. 

Alex grinned, putting an arm around Maria. "Hey, you impressed Isabel, the Queen of Roswell High! Accomplishments like this do not happen every day, you know. Ladies, I believe a celebration is in order! What say we hit the Crashdown, my treat? Then you can give Liz the scoop." 

Maria gave him a regretful smile. "Thanks, Alex, but I'd better get home. I've got some studying to do to make up for my last French quiz, or my mom will kill me." 

"Isabel?" He turned to the other girl. 

"No thanks, Alex. I've got some errands to run. But I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"  
  


*****

Isabel pulled the Jeep up next to the self-service pump at the Lift Off gas station, where Michael Guerin had worked all summer. Liz had kindly helped to rearrange his schedule so he had minimal shifts with Maria, but even so, he couldn't handle seeing her. He'd stayed at the café until Mr. Parker could find another cook, and then found both a full-time summer job stocking shelves at the local supermarket and this part-time job at the station. 

His lamebrain plan to keep as busy as possible in the hope of not having time to think hadn't really worked, but at least he had some decent money coming in for a few months. Enough to keep him in Tabasco sauce and pay the rent, anyway. Now that school was back in session, he was down to just the part-time job. 

Glancing around, Isabel frowned. Michael had been acting strangely all summer, but for the past few weeks, he had been weird. Well, even weirder than normal. Plus he'd been completely avoiding Max and her. Now she was determined to get to the bottom of things. Not that she didn't know what was wrong with him. Time to do something about it. 

Isabel stopped the Jeep and honked the horn. A moment later Michael stepped out of the building and saw her. 

"What, Iz, you can't even pump your own gas now?" he asked dispassionately. 

"The Jeep needed a fill-up, so I thought I'd come by and see how you're doing," she replied, not at all affected by his tone...or lack thereof. 

"Fine. I'm just fine." Michael put the nozzle into the Jeep's gas tank and began pumping unleaded. 

"Max and I thought it might be good to get together over dinner for another planning session," she ventured. 

His voice remained impassive as he put her off. "No can do, Iz. Gotta work late tonight." 

Isabel looked at him suspiciously. He was acting strangely calm, not at all like the Michael she knew. Where was the tension, the pent-up energy that always filled him? She decided to push his buttons a little. 

"Guess who auditioned for the fall musical this afternoon?" she asked. Her tone was nonchalant, but she watched Michael carefully. He didn't answer, just shrugged his shoulders as if he was totally uninterested in the subject--which in fact he was. Giving up on a stronger reaction from him, she finally burst out, "Maria." 

"So?" 

"She was good. Really good. Alex said she could sing, but wow!" Still getting no response, she went on, hotly, "I just thought you might be interested." 

"Well, Isabel, you thought wrong." 

"Oh, come on, Michael, I know you better than that. You care about her. You pretend not to, but we all know better. You've been closed off from her--from all of us--all summer. It's time you started..." 

"What do you know about it? Nothing," he said dully, his eyes finally meeting hers. His voice rose slightly as he continued, "So just back off, Isabel. It's none of your business, anyway." 

Pleased at getting a reaction of some sort, she shouted back. "It is my business! You're part of my family, and you're being a total idiot!" She stopped, hating how defeated he suddenly looked. 

Michael closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and said tonelessly, "Look, Iz, I need to get back to work. Just drop it, okay?" 

He pulled the nozzle out of the tank, placed it back in its slot on the pump, and screwed on the gas cap. Isabel handed him a $20 bill, and he wordlessly handed back her change. 

Climbing into the driver's seat, Isabel looked back at him, torn between wanting to hug him and wanting to pound some sense into his thick skull. "Thanks for pumping the gas," she finally said. 

"Yeah."  
  
  



	2. Masques: Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2  


Maria walked down the hallway on the way from French class to her locker to grab the lunch she'd packed that morning. She'd actually had a good class for once; she'd been working extra hard to make up for her pre-audition grade funk and had been able to garner some unaccustomed praise from Mme. Fraser when called on to translate a short passage from the textbook. Her eyes sparkled as she remembered the teacher's words. She bounced as she moved down the hall, feeling almost giddy. 

Her happiness was suddenly checked by a sudden familiar tingle deep within her and then the sight of a spiky brown head moving at the other end of the hall. For one split second green eyes met brown; then Michael abruptly turned and walked in the other direction. 

Maria's good mood faltered. This fleeting glance was the most direct contact she'd had with Michael in weeks. He usually managed to completely avoid meeting her in the hallway. Even in the two classes they shared, English and World History, he avoided her, entering the room at the last minute, never so much as glancing in her direction during the class, and bolting for the door the moment the bell rang. He spent both periods staring down at his desk, silent except when called upon. Only then would he look up and respond in short growled phrases. His seeming ability to ignore her without a problem annoyed Maria to no end. She, the one who could fake anything with anybody, wasn't able to feign anything remotely like his unconcern. 

For a moment, she almost wished for the early days of their off-again, on-again, off-again relationship. Even his constant running away wasn't as bad as this. When she thought he hated her, it hurt, but knowing he loved her and still refused to acknowledge her hurt even worse. 

Her good mood received a second blow a moment later; the scorching glare from a group of girls who were gathered by the football team's trophy case stopped her in her tracks. Maria mentally cringed for a moment before summoning up her pride, determined not to let them--or anything, for that matter--bother her. Lifting her chin, she continued down the hallway to her locker. 

Grabbing her lunch and slamming her locker shut, she moved back down the hall, staring at the spitefully chattering girls in defiance, then headed out to the quad to join Liz and Alex for lunch. 

The brown-haired computer geek lifted a hand and waved casually as she approached the table. "Hey, 'Ria," he said. 

"What is up with everyone today?" she responded crossly. "I feel like I ran over the team mascot or something. If looks could kill, Melanie Royer and Pamela Harris would be in jail and I would be on the way to the Roswell morgue." 

"Dunno," Alex replied, taking a swig of his root beer. "Maybe it's a full moon." 

"Uh, we're in Roswell, Alex. We deal in aliens, not werewolves," the blonde girl shot back. "Where's Liz?" 

"Hark! Our Lady of the Sciences doth approach. And with Queen Isabel and Lord Max, no less," Alex replied dramatically, looking across the quad. 

"Spending too much time at the Renaissance Festival, Alex?" Isabel asked as she sat down across from Maria. "Hey, Maria." 

"Isabel. Max. Liz. What's up?" 

"We have a problem," Max said soberly. 

"See, Liz, I told you things weren't normal! What is it now? FBI? Nasedo? Attack of the Killer Czechoslovakians? What?" Maria demanded heatedly. 

"None of the above. It's Michael," replied Max 

"Oh, god. What's Spaceboy done this time?" 

"It's not what he's done, Maria," Isabel cut in. "It's what he's not done. He's not acting at all like himself. You know Michael, Mr. 'React Without Thinking'. Well, right now he's not reacting to anything. Max and I can barely get him to talk to us, and when he does, he's so calm and collected...It's really creepy." 

Alex suggested, "Maybe he's just accepted what's going on. With Tess and your destiny and all." 

"Alex, he's almost polite." 

The humans were silent for a full three minutes while they digested this news. 

"What do you want us to do?" Liz asked finally, her brow wrinkling in worry. 

"We need to get him to talk, to tell us what's going on. He won't talk to either of us, so we thought maybe if we'd all gang up on him, we could make him open up to us," the tall blonde explained. 

"You mean, like an intervention?" snorted Alex. "Besides, since when has anyone ever been able to make Michael do anything he didn't want to do?" 

"I just don't know what else to try. I'm really worried about him. This isn't just Michael being moody. Something is wrong." 

Maria slowly suggested, "What about dreamwalking him, Isabel?" 

"We've always promised not to do that to each other. It's hard to get in anyway, and Michael and Max always know when I'm there and can kick me out." 

"But maybe it's worth a try." 

"Maybe..." 

Maria stared at her hands uncomfortably. "I think you should try, Isabel. If something really is wrong, and he's too contrary to admit it..." Her voice trailed off. 

Max spoke up decisively. "Okay, here's the plan. If he's too stubborn to talk to us, we'll have to go to him. We'll wait for him at his apartment after school, and see if the five of us can make some sense of this. If not, Isabel will try to dreamwalk him." 

"What about Tess, Max?" asked Liz quietly. 

"We're not bringing her into things at this stage of the game. I don't trust her and her little mind games. So we'll see everyone at Michael's at 3:30?" 

Four heads nodded as the group broke up to head back to class. 

Maria tossed her uneaten lunch in a nearby garbage can on her way towards the building, suddenly not at all hungry.  
  


*****

Mrs. Lyons, the History teacher, was droning on about Magellan. Maria looked up from the doodle she'd drawn in place of the notes she should have been taking, and snuck a glance across the room at Michael. Once again, he'd waltzed into class at the last minute, and sat looking down at his desk. She stared at him, her eyes burning an imaginary hole into his spiky head, willing him to look up at her. Of course, since she was not possessed of superpowers, it didn't work. She sighed, and then started as the bell rang. Gathering up her things, she quickly headed for the door, intent on getting to her locker and meeting Liz. 

She practically ran down the hall and barely missed knocking into Kyle Valenti, who put out an arm to steady her. "Hey, slow down there, DeLuca." 

She shook his hand off her arm and blurted out, "Can't talk now, Kyle. In a hurry." She started towards her locker again. 

"I know," he responded. "Ms. Bedinger's putting the Little Shop cast list up." 

"What? I don't have time for that. Things to do." 

She barely got two steps further before Kyle stopped her again. "Maria, I think you'll want to see this." 

Okay. Fine. "What?" 

Kyle took her by the arm and pulled her down the hall, just as Alex had several weeks earlier. As they neared the bulletin board, Melanie Royer glared at her and then stalked off in the opposite direction. Maria looked at where Kyle was pointing, and stood, speechless. 

"Maria, I've been looking for you. We need to get over to--" Liz's voice cut off abruptly as she saw Maria staring, transfixed, at the board. Her eyes joined the blonde girl's. "Oh my god, Maria!" she whispered, and then turned and hugged her silent friend. "You got the lead, Maria! You're playing Audrey! Maria! Maria?" 

"Congratulations, Maria," said Kyle. 

"What? Oh, yeah," responded Maria, smiling weakly. "Thanks, Kyle." 

"This is just great, Maria. Just what you wanted," Liz enthused. 

"Yeah. Yeah, it is," replied Maria. "Umm, Liz? We need to head over to...We need to meet Alex now, don't we?" 

"Yep. See you, Kyle!" 

After stopping by Maria's locker to drop off her history text, the girls headed out to the front sidewalk where they'd agreed to meet Alex. He stood by the bicycle rack, waiting patiently. Looking at Liz's broad smile, he said, "Someone's in a good mood!" 

Since Maria was still being uncharacteristically silent, Liz quickly told him about their friend's coup. Putting an arm around Maria's shoulders, Alex congratulated her. "Fantastic, Maria. I told you you could do it!" 

"Actually," Liz cut in, "I believe you were the one with doubts. Remember? Cart? Horse? Something about not putting one before the other?" 

Alex opened his mouth to respond but was silenced when Maria quietly said, "Guys, we need to get to Michael's." 

As the three of them headed down the sidewalk towards the parking lot, Liz thought she heard Maria mutter, "Fantastic. Now Spaceboy can get in the way of this, too."  
  


*****

As Liz raised her hand to knock on Michael's door, it opened suddenly. Pulling back quickly, Max barely avoided Liz hitting him in the face. "Oops. Sorry, Max." She blushed slightly. 

He smiled down at her and said, "Come on in. Michael's not here yet." 

Maria sat quietly on one end of the couch, trying not to look around. This was the first time she'd been in his apartment since...well, since the whole destiny mess. Trying not to think too much about it, she looked up as she heard her name. 

"Maria! Congratulations!" Isabel gave her a quick hug, and she smiled tightly back at the taller girl. 

"Thanks, Isabel." 

"You had a great audition. You really deserved it! Who else is in the cast?" Isabel asked, sitting next to her. 

"I don't actually know. I didn't get that far down the cast list," Maria admitted. 

"She was a little in shock at the time, " Liz said, smiling. "You should have seen her! She actually couldn't speak--" She stopped abruptly as Maria stiffened. 

"He's here," she said tersely. 

Alex looked at her curiously. "How do you...?" 

"I just know," she replied, as the lock clicked and the door swung open. 

Michael stepped into the apartment and paused at the sight of the group lying in wait. One eyebrow rose slowly. 

Max was the first to speak. "Hey, Michael." 

"Hey." 

An uncomfortable silence filled the small room. 

Finally Isabel stood and smiled, her patented big fat fake smile, the one she saved for snowing the teachers. "Michael! It's been a while since we've gotten to say hi, so we stopped by to say hi. So hi!" she laughed loudly. Michael just looked at her. 

Liz smiled, and Alex spoke up. "How's it going, man?" 

Michael shrugged. 

"Look Michael, we need to talk." 

"I don't think so, Max. Got lots to do. Sorry." But he didn't seem particularly repentant. 

Maria looked around at the others, who were all beginning to look worried now. She turned back to study the spiky-haired alien she cared so much about. As usual, he wouldn't meet her eyes. 

Isabel tried again. "Michael--" 

"I'm really kinda busy right now, Isabel. I'd appreciate it if you'd go." 

Maria finally spoke up. "Umm, guys? I need to talk to Michael for a minute, okay?" She caught Liz's eye, and nodding, Liz moved to the door, Alex in her wake. 

Max took Isabel by the arm, saying, "We'll wait for you outside, Maria." His sister allowed herself to be pulled from the room, her eyes locking with Maria's and silently pleading--no, insisting--that she fix things. 

The door shut behind them. Maria looked closely at Michael, who hadn't moved and still wouldn't meet her glance. She took in the circles under his eyes and the furrow of his brow. He looked very, very tired and much older. Only his hair still stood to attention in its usual haphazard manner. 

"Michael," she began. "I don't pretend to know what's going on with you, but I lo--We all care about you. A lot. And we're worried about you. So what is going on?" 

His shrug and continued avoidance of her eyes began to annoy her. "Look, Michael, you can run from me if you want to. God knows you're good at that. If you want to ignore our relationship, that's fine; I should be used to it by now. But if you think you can get away with ignoring Max and Isabel, you've got another think coming. You need each other, now more than ever. You should be planning, preparing for your big destiny that you all seem so enamored of." 

She moved to stand directly in front of him, but he continued to stare at the wall. Her voice rose. "So get with the program, pally, because this too important to screw around with!" Reaching up, she took his face in her hands and turned it towards hers. 

He spoke one cold, unemotional word. "Go." His eyes finally met hers. She looked into his eyes for one quick moment before her hands flew away from his face and she ran from the room, pulling the door shut behind her. 

Leaning against the door, she slid to the ground and began to shake. She looked up at Max, whispering, "Something is really wrong. That's not Michael."  
  
  



	3. Masques: Chapter 3

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 3_  


Wordlessly, Max reached out a hand to pull Maria to her feet, and the five of them climbed down the stairs. Heading outside, they turned around the corner of the building where they'd parked the Jeep and the Jetta earlier, hoping not to scare Michael off before they got the chance to talk to him. Maria's hands shook as she pulled out her keys and handed them to Liz. Alex gave her a hug before taking Isabel's hand and climbing with her into the back of the Jeep. With Max in the driver's seat, the Jeep led the two-vehicle caravan straight to the Crashdown. 

Once there, they headed up to the Parkers' living room, nodding at Jeff Parker, who was going over some paperwork in the employee lounge, on the way. 

"Hi, kids," the tall man said. "You and your friends want a snack, Liz?" 

"No thanks. We're just heading upstairs for a quick study session, Dad," the girl replied. 

"Sure. Let me know if you change your mind," her father offered. 

Upstairs, the group sat down, Alex still holding Isabel's hand. Without even thinking about it, Max put his arm around Liz, who nestled into him. Maria sat numbly on the other end of the couch. 

Isabel finally voiced what they were all thinking. "Nasedo?" 

Maria shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she said slowly. 

Max suggested, "Another alien? Another...shapeshifter?" 

Again she shook her head. 

"Maria, you said it wasn't Michael," Alex pointed out. "If not Nasedo or another alien, what could it be? Weird as things have gotten around here in the last year, I'm not willing to believe in demonic possession, so..." He stopped speaking as Isabel's elbow made a minor dent in his ribs. 

"It's not Michael, and it _is_," Maria tried to explain. "I mean, there he is, standing there, and he's not, all at the same time." Her voice caught as she said, "He looked me in the eye, and there was nothing there. No spark, no anger, nothing that makes Michael _Michael_. I...I couldn't _feel_ him." 

"_Feel_ him?" Isabel burst out. "This is no time to be playing touchy-feely games!" She sprang up and began to pace across the room. 

Alex put a stop to the girl's frenetic pacing by reaching out, grabbing her hand, and holding it tightly. "Calm down, Isabel. That's not what she means. Is it?" he asked Maria, who shook her head again. 

"No, it's just that I can always tell when he's there, you know? I don't have to see him, I just know he is." 

"When did this start?" Max asked quietly. 

"I don't know exactly...Sometime last fall, I guess. I just thought it was nerves at first. I mean, Michael can be pretty scary when you don't know him. Then when I did get to know him, I figured it was just a Czechoslovakian thing. I got used to it." 

"And you never told me?" Liz questioned. 

"I never told anybody. I never even told Michael. You and Max started getting those visions, and I thought maybe this was related, but...I don't know. It was just private." Her eyes dropped to the floor. "It...I felt special, you know?" 

"This is how you knew when he was at the apartment this afternoon, isn't it?" said Alex gently. She nodded. 

"I could feel it when he was outside the door. But when I looked into his eyes, nothing." 

Maria glanced at the close-knit group of friends around her. She was relieved to see that they seemed to believe her. 

"Well, what now?" asked Isabel, once more pacing across the room. 

"Max, could you and Isabel try and read him? Maybe you can get a flash from him and see what's going on," suggested Liz. 

Max frowned rubbed his forehead. "He's hardly likely to let us get close enough to do that. I don't think we'll be able to ambush him like that again." 

Alex tried to break the tension in the room. "Well, going back to demonic possession, we could always try a little exorcism. Burn a few herbs, chant a little Latin, sacrifice a few little green alien dolls..." 

Liz smiled, shaking her head, as Isabel picked up a pillow and smacked Alex in the head with it. Maria gave a small chuckle. 

"Hey, a little help here!" begged Alex, grinning between blows from the pillow. Neither girl moved to aid their beleaguered friend. 

Max smiled and tightened his hold on Liz, lacing his fingers through hers. She looked up at him and nodded. He gazed for a moment into her warm brown eyes before turning to his sister, his face serious. "I think it's time to dreamwalk, Isabel."  
  


*****

Once again, Maria rushed through the halls toward her locker, paying no attention to the people around her. Grabbing her lunch, she headed out towards the quad, her mind on Isabel and the previous night's dreamwalk. Hoping Isabel had been able to get some clue as to what was going on, she marched along, lost in thought. 

She stopped abruptly to avoid running into a tall, male form that was planted in the hallway in front of her. 

Looking up, she took in the dark brown hair and worried eyes. "Hey, Max," she said, concerned. "You look like you got about as much sleep as I did." 

The tall alien shook his head slowly. "I stayed up most of the night with Isabel. She had trouble getting into Michael's dreams. Evidently he's not sleeping much, either." 

"Did she get through?" questioned Maria impatiently. "What did she see? What was he dreaming about? What--" 

"Hold on a minute, Maria," Max said, putting his hand out to stop her impatient queries. "That's why I was waiting for you. We're meeting on the quad. If Michael's not around, Isabel can tell everyone what happened." 

Maria nodded and started down the hall. "How are you doing?" she asked, studying him carefully. "You're carrying enough on your shoulders already without having this weirdness to deal with." Putting her hand on his arm, she went on, "I know Liz has been worried about you, but so have Alex and I. You're our friend, too, you know? You mean a lot to us. So we worry." 

Max covered her hand with his own. "I know. Your friendship, and Alex's, and Liz's, are helping me get through this. You all mean a lot to Isabel, too. And whatever is going on with Michael, he cares about you, in his own clumsy way. No matter how confused he gets, you should know how much you mean to him." 

"Max, stop trying to make _me_ feel better and let me know how _you_ are!" 

"I'm doing okay. We just need to get through this a day at a time." 

Maria nodded. "Yeah, I know." 

By this time, the two had reached their normal table on the quad. Liz, Alex and Isabel were already sitting and starting on their lunches. The other two humans looked almost as tired as Maria felt. She was inwardly amused, however, to see that despite her late night, Isabel was her usual perfectly made up and coifed self. 

"You know, it's really not fair," she told the taller girl. "You've got to be as worn out and stressed as the rest of us, and look at you! Straight from a magazine cover." 

Isabel smiled softly back at her. "I guess it's one of the few benefits of our genetic background. Instant beauty aids." 

"Boy, if you could package that, you could make a fortune! Maybelline, look out!" teased Alex. 

"And just how come _you_ are familiar with Maybelline, Alex?" asked Maria, holding in a chuckle. "Been holding out on us?" 

Alex snorted. "Oh yeah, I am such the beauty queen. Come on Maria, I've been hanging out with you and Liz for the last six years. I had to pick up _something_ by osmosis." 

Ever the leader, Max changed the subject. "Anyone seen Michael this morning?" 

"He was in English. No change," said Maria soberly. 

Liz added, "I saw him in the hall earlier, but he seemed to be avoiding me." 

"Big surprise there," Maria grumbled. 

Max turned to the scowling girl. "Is he around right now? Can you tell?" 

She sat for a moment, concentrating. "I don't think so. I'd know if he were," she finally answered. 

"Okay," he decided. "Isabel, tell everyone what happened last night." 

His sister nodded. "It took a long time to get in," she said. "I mean, I can't dreamwalk him if he isn't asleep. I tried quite a few times before I could reach him at all." 

"Well, what did you find out?" demanded Maria impatiently. Liz took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. 

Isabel slowly began to describe her experience. "It was strange. Usually people's dreams have a...well, _dreamlike_ quality to them. Nothing seems quite real. But Michael's was very sharp and very focused, almost _too_ real. It was the desert, but not the desert around here. No rock formations, no pod cave. The only things I could see were the flat sand and a very bright, empty sky." 

"Did he realize you were in his dream?" asked Liz. "How did he react?" 

"He wasn't _in_ his dream. Nobody was, just sand and sky. I stayed in the dream for over an hour, wandering around, looking for him. I thought he might be hiding somewhere, and if I looked hard enough, I'd find him, or at least signs of him, but nothing. No people, no animals, not even any stars. Nothing at all. It was frightening. And as worried as I was about him, I couldn't find the energy to leave. Max had to wake me up." 

"So Michael's not only avoiding us, now he's avoiding his own dreams?" asked Alex. "Strange is right, Isabel." 

"How can you not be in your own dreams? What does that mean?" Liz thought aloud. 

"I think my mom has some dream interpretation books. Maybe they could give us some clues," Maria offered. 

"Actually, Isabel and I had another idea," said Max slowly. "If you can always sense when he's around, we thought you might be able to tell if he's really in his dream or not." 

"Oh yeah," scoffed Maria. "I'll just crank up my Czechoslovakian superpowers and hop right on into Michael's head. Hey, remember, _human_, okay?" 

"Cut it out, Maria!" Isabel said in exasperation. "We don't expect you to dreamwalk; we just thought that maybe I could take you with me when I do." 

"What?" 

"We think it might be possible," added Max. 

"It's worth a shot, Maria," said Liz. Her brow wrinkled. "But only if it's not dangerous. If Isabel couldn't get out without you waking her, Max..." 

Max looked at her understandingly. "We certainly don't want Maria to get hurt--" 

Isabel broke in, "If she did, Michael--whenever he comes to his senses--would _kill_ us." 

Giving his sister a chiding glance, Max continued, "But we think it can be done. There are no guarantees, though, Maria. We haven't done anything quite like this before. It's up to you whether or not you want to try." 

"Well, we don't have any other ideas, do we? And I am _not_ going to spend the rest of my life worrying about what happened to Michael. He's screwed up enough of it already." Her eyes grew serious. "Besides, I trust you. So yeah, if there's a chance it will help, of course I'll do it." 

Isabel smiled at her gratefully. "Thanks," she said simply. Maria nodded at her. 

"Hey, I care about him, too, remember? No matter what is going through that twisted head of his. So when do you want to do it?" 

"How about asking your mom if you can spend the night on Friday? It may take a while to get through if Michael's still not sleeping much, so it could be a long night. Liz could come, too," she went on. "We could tell our parents it's a sleepover." 

"Well, I guess that leaves me out," said Alex. "I don't think any of our parents would go for a coed slumber party." 

"If you can sneak out, you can always come in by my window and use the sleeping bag. Michael's done it hundreds of times," suggested Max. 

"Great! Now I'm modeling myself on Michael Guerin of all people. Next thing you know, I'll be listening to Metallica and spiking my hair." 

Liz and Maria took one look at each other and then back at Alex. "Naaahh."  



	4. Masques: Chapter 4

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 4_  


The blonde girl huddled on the ground, tears in her eyes. Thoughts of her lost lover, her loneliness, her own lack of self-worth, raced through her mind. Suddenly a tall form knelt beside her and a gentle hand lifted her chin. Tender brown eyes met hers as a soft voice spoke, giving comfort and support. In response, the girl spoke hesitantly of her past, of the father who'd left and of the mother who worked so hard to make ends meet, of her own blind search for love. Taking her in his arms, he told her of his love for her, that her strange and frightening past could be, and would be, washed away into nothing. Lost in his arms, she finally realized that she would never be alone again. 

The two held each other tightly, locked in a passionate embrace...only breaking apart at the sound of third voice calling, "...and blackout." 

Maria smiled up at Mark Blumenthal, who reached out a hand to help her to her feet. "This scene's coming along really well," the tall senior commented. The drama teacher, Ms. Bedinger, concurred. 

"You're right, Mark, the scene works well, and 'Suddenly Seymour' sounds very good. Once we get the lighting in, it will be extremely effective. Now if you two will take a look at the rest of Act II over the weekend, we'll begin blocking that on Tuesday. Go ahead and memorize what we've done so far with Act II Scene I; I'd like you to be off book the next time we run it." 

Maria nodded, and headed towards her bookbag to place her script and pencil inside for the trip home. Ms. Bedinger had started blocking the Seymour and Audrey scenes at the first rehearsal, while the choral teacher worked with Melanie Royer, Debbie Schaefer, and Pamela Harris on their songs. In a few short rehearsals, Maria felt like she was already getting a good grasp on her character, and had learned most of her music. 

Mentally checking her homework list, she decided she'd better stop at her locker for some textbooks before heading home and then over to Isabel's for the 'slumber party'. She'd managed to concentrate on schoolwork and the play over the past few days, without thinking more than three or four times a day about the coming ordeal. Huh. More like three or four times an _hour_. 

"Hey, Maria, wait up!" she heard, and turned around to see Mark heading toward her. He smiled down at her and asked, "So how come you haven't done any shows with us before? You're doing a great job with Audrey." 

"Bad fifth-grade class play experience," she admitted. 

Mark asked curiously, "Oh? What happened?" 

"Let's just say that a bucket of water and slippery shoes are not the stuff of which stardom is made. Unless you're into the Three Stooges, I guess." 

"Wipeout?" 

She nodded ruefully. "Right in the middle of my big dramatic scene at the end. Not really good encouragement to continue on the theatrical path." 

"What made you go for this? I mean, I'm glad you did, but you just kind of came out of the blue. Nobody had you pegged for an actress." 

"Liz Parker and Alex Whitman talked me into it. And I think I'm really glad. It's a lot of fun, you know?" 

He smiled understandingly. "Well, it's great to be able to work with you. I hope that--" 

He was cut off by Pamela Harris, who took his arm possessively while conspicuously ignoring Maria. "Mark," she said firmly, "I've been waiting for you forever. We need to hurry if we're going to make the movie in time." 

"Sure, Pamela," he told her. "Sorry, Maria, I've got to head out. We're catching a ride with Melanie. See you on Monday!" 

"See you, Mark! Bye, Pamela." Maria rolled her eyes as the snooty girl gave her a small grimace of dislike behind Mark's back. What a witch. At that moment, Maria vowed firmly to _never_ be that wrapped up in herself. Stuffing her math text and notebook in her bookbag, she closed the locker door, and leaned on it wearily. Okay. Time to stop being the normal high school Maria and be the dreamwalking, alien-hunting Maria. Oh, goody. 

She drove home with her mind on the upcoming events of the evening. She trusted Isabel and Max, but she was still nervous about the whole thing. What if it didn't work, and she couldn't accompany Isabel on her dream safari, or she could, but couldn't sense Michael? Or worse, what if she _could_ sense him, but he didn't want to be found? Putting the car in park, she took a deep breath and then headed inside. 

Her mother was in the kitchen, putting away groceries. "Hey, Mom. Close up the shop early?" 

Amy DeLuca nodded. "Business was pretty slow, anyway, so I thought I'd give up for the evening and run some errands. How was school?" 

"Okay. And rehearsal went really well. I'm having a lot of fun with it, Mom." 

Her mother smiled warmly at her. "I'm glad, honey. Glad you're having a good time. And I'm really proud of you." She gave the girl a hug. 

"Don't say that until you see the show," joked Maria. "You don't want to have to eat your words, now, do you? I mean, I might suck." 

Amy got that righteously indignant look that only mothers could wear. "Maria DeLuca! I do _not_ want to hear that from your mouth again. If I say I'm proud of you, then I'm proud of you. No arguments!" 

"Okay, okay! Just kidding, Mom." Maria decided to change the subject. "So, you got a big night planned?" 

"Sure, honey. Just me, some paperwork, a glass of wine, and maybe a little TV. Big doings in the DeLuca household." 

"No date?" 

"Not tonight. A quiet evening at home for me...Be glad you have more fun things to do." 

"Uh huh." 

Amy smiled knowingly. "What is it tonight? Movies, makeovers...I know, maybe a little talk about boys?" 

"Mom!" Maria exclaimed. "We do have other things to talk about, you know. I mean, it's not like Isabel, Liz and I are seeing anybody right now. It's just a Girl's Night. No talk of boys allowed!" She fervently hoped her mother would take her statement as 'protesting too much' and assume they were in for the standard slumber party rituals. Not that she would ever be able to guess what was really going to happen... 

"Sure, honey. Whatever you say." 

"Well, it could be worse," Maria teased. "I could be dating the _Sheriff_!" And with that, she bolted from the room, giggling, before her mom's well-aimed dishtowel could strike.  
  


*****

"Here you are, girls," said Diane Evans, carrying a tray of soft drinks and assorted munchies into Isabel's room. "This should keep you going for a while." 

"Thanks, Mom," Isabel answered from her perch on her bed. 

"Dad and I will be in our room if you need anything else, and Max is reading in his. Now don't you stay up _too_ late," her mother warned in a joking tone. "Have fun!" 

The three girls nodded, reaching for the glasses and cans of soda. Diane left the room smiling reminiscently as she shut the door behind her. It didn't seem so long since it was _her_ mother bringing the snacks up at her slumber parties. She gave a regretful sigh. Time really did go too fast. 

Inside the bedroom, Maria asked nervously, for at least the fourteenth time, "What time is it now?" 

"It's only 11:37, 'Ria," her best friend answered her. 

"It'll be at least an hour before there's even a chance Michael will be asleep," Isabel warned. "Plus Max won't come in until my parents are sleeping, and we need to wait for Alex, anyway." 

"I know, I know," responded Maria impatiently. "I just want to get this over with. I've got a funny feeling that it's really important." 

"We'll do it," Liz said to bolster her up. "We'll figure out what's wrong with him and then we'll fix it. We can do anything as long as we work together." 

Maria nodded, feeling slightly calmer. It would work. She was determined to make it work. How didn't matter, it just _would_. Or she would go certifiably insane. 

"So what do you want to do until Alex and Max join us?" Isabel asked. 

"Well, Maria was about to tell us how rehearsals were going," Liz said quickly, settling down at the foot of Isabel's bed. 

"Yeah? So how are they?" 

"Pretty good, I think, but we have a lot to do, and only five more weeks of rehearsal to do it in. It's really fast. We've blocked most of the scenes between Mark and me--" 

"Blocked?" interrupted Isabel. 

Maria explained, "You know, Ms. Bedinger has told us where to enter and exit, where to stand, that sort of thing. I haven't worked much with the rest of the cast yet, though." 

"How's working with Mark? He was pretty good in Hello, Dolly last year," the alien commented. 

Maria hadn't known Isabel had an interest in theater. "He's good in this, too. He's really nice. It feels really comfortable working with him." 

"Plus," Liz teased, "I heard he's a great kisser." 

Maria flushed and took a quick gulp of her soda. "It's acting, Liz. He's not kissing me, _Seymour_ is kissing _Audrey_. You know, make believe. It's really sweet, actually. And different." 

"Different?" put in Isabel curiously. 

"I mean, it's nice and all, but there isn't...we don't...it doesn't mean anything, you know? It's not like Michael." She looked directly at Isabel. "Kissing Michael was...explosive." She could sense Liz smiling as she remembered a conversation they'd had months before. "It was passionate, wild...It felt incredible, but it felt _right_, too, you know? Kissing Mark in the play is just that: kissing Mark in the play." Turning to Liz, she remarked wryly, "I _told_ you that they'd ruin us for other guys!" 

Isabel nodded reflectively. "I think I know what you mean. Believe me, it's not limited to Czechoslovakians." She caught Liz and Maria's curious glances and hurried on, "But you're enjoying it?" 

"The kissing or the play?" asked Maria innocently. 

Isabel grabbed her head in frustration. "You know what I mean!" 

"Uh huh. Sure we do!" said Liz, with a twinkle in her eye. 

Maria continued, "Yeah, I'm having a lot of fun. As usual, Liz, you were right to talk me into it." 

"Of course she was right. Isn't she always?" teased a familiar voice from the doorway. "She's practically a genius!" 

"Alex!" the three girls cried in unison. 

"None other," he replied, closing the door. "Although I believe the whole 'Maria should be a star' idea was mine." 

The girls ignored this as Liz said, "I see you managed to sneak out past your parents." 

"Easy as hacking into the FBI database," he replied modestly. "Max will be along in a minute. What were we discussing?" 

"Maria was just telling us about Little Shop rehearsals," answered Isabel. 

"Well, continue," he said, pulling out Isabel's desk chair and sitting. 

"It's just that it feels so natural, so easy," Maria admitted. "We've only had a few rehearsals, and already I can find myself losing myself in Audrey. It's a really good escape, you know? And even though it's a lot of work, it doesn't seem like it. The only thing that could make it better would be if Melanie and Pamela would pull the sticks out of their collective butts and stop acting like they hate me. Well, that, and if you guys were there. I can feel a distinct lack of friendly vibes at rehearsal." 

"Melanie and Pamela are just angry because a junior beat them out for the lead. But come on, really. Who on earth convinced Pamela Harris that 'I Feel Pretty' was a good audition song for Little Shop of Horrors? It's not exactly chock full of legit sopranos. She should be grateful that she was cast at all," said Alex knowingly. "As for the 'friendly vibes' lack," he went on, "I believe I can help with that. Guess who will be performing in the pit orchestra?" 

"Alex!" squealed Maria, rushing up to give him a hug. 

Alex caught himself before she could knock him over, chair and all. "Whoa, there, Maria," he said, delighted at seeing the sparkle return to her eyes. "Don't damage the bass player! You need me, after all. Who else is going to protect you from the vanity twins? A poor little helpless thing like you can't possibly--" 

Max, who had been standing in the doorway, smiled as the three girls ganged up and pounced on the hapless teen. "Need some help, Alex?" he asked, shutting the door behind him. 

Alex, trying to avoid the assorted pillows and hands that were aimed at him, turned gratefully to the tall alien. "Yes!" he cried, grinning the whole time. 

"Give it up, Alex, you're no match for even one of us," Maria shot back, "much less all three. Together, we are practically invincible!" 

"And it's a good thing, too. We'll need that tonight," Max put in. 

Maria sobered immediately, her mind instantly going to the problem ahead. "So how exactly do we do this?" she asked. 

"With your permission, Isabel will make a connection with you. I'll link to her to keep the connection intact, and then she'll dreamwalk Michael. If it works, you'll appear in the dream with her." 

"What can we do?" asked Alex. 

Max turned to him. "You and Liz need to keep an eye on the three of us. Last time, I had to pull Isabel out of Michael's dream; it may suck all three of us in this time. Give us an hour, then snap us out of it. First Isabel and Maria, then me. Also, if at any time it seems like _anything_ is going wrong, break us out of it immediately." 

Liz and Alex nodded. 

"Okay, are we ready to try this?" 

"Max," his sister pointed out, "it's barely past midnight. There's no way Michael's asleep yet. He only gets three or four hours on the best of nights." 

Maria looked up at this, remembering a night when he slept out his sorrow and exhaustion for hours in her arms, but said nothing. 

"I don't know, Isabel. I saw him at school today, and he looked really ragged. I'm not sure how long he can last without falling asleep on his feet," said Alex hesitantly. 

"All right. I'll try to dreamwalk him first, to see if he is asleep. Once he is, then Maria and I will try it together," Isabel responded. Lying down comfortably on her bed, she reached over to her night table for a silver-framed photo of the three aliens. Softly fingering it, she stared at the image of Michael's face, concentrating, and closed her eyes. 

The room was silent for what seemed like hours, but in reality couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Maria played with a loose thread on the sleeve of her shirt, and bit her lip to keep from shrieking with tension. Liz reached over and took her hand, holding it tightly. 

All four watchers let out a sigh of relief when Isabel opened her eyes and sat up. "You were right, Alex. He's asleep already. I went close enough to his dream to see that it was his, but not close enough to actually be in it," she said. She looked up at Maria, who had stood in her nervous anticipation. "Are you ready?" she asked. When Maria nodded silently, she patted the bed next to her. "Well, relax then. This won't hurt you." 

"Or so we think," Maria muttered under her breath, but she lay down next to Isabel without hesitation. Under Isabel's instructions, she took a few deep breaths and silently commanded her body to relax. 

Liz pulled Max to the corner of the room and asked worriedly, "Max, what will she see when Isabel connects with her? Will there be visions, like when you healed me?" 

"Izzy shouldn't need to make that deep a connection with her, but they both might see some things. We're never quite sure what we'll pick up." 

"Don't you think you should warn Maria first?" questioned Alex, who had been listening to their conversation. 

"Guys, I'm right here and I can hear you. You're not exactly keeping secrets," remarked Maria from the bed. "So, Isabel, visions, huh? Well, you won't see anything Michael hasn't already seen except...Oh my god." Her face reddened abruptly as she realized that Isabel might just see some rather steamy moments between her and the spiky-haired alien. "Ummm...Isabel?" 

"Yes?" 

"Can you please just...like..._ignore_ anything in there you don't think I'd want you to see? Please?" 

Isabel chuckled softly, immediately knowing what the other girl meant. "Believe me, I don't want to see that sort of thing either. Michael is like my brother. I do not need to go through life with _that_ imprinted on my brain." She gave a delicate shudder and added, "I promise to block out anything over a PG rating." 

"Swear?" Maria clutched her hand. 

"Swear." 

Maria took one last deep breath. "Okay, then. Let's go find us an alien."  



	5. Masques: Chapter 5

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 5_  


Closing her eyes, she grasped Isabel's hand tightly, and felt the alien wrap her fingers around their joined hands. 

Maria waited, scarcely daring to breathe, for something, _anything_, to happen. She could hear the slight hum of Isabel's bedside lamp and the soft scrape as Alex pulled the desk chair nearer to the bed. She knew Liz was nearby, hovering anxiously over them, and Max was sitting next to Isabel. Why wasn't something happening? Was it her? She hadn't gotten any visions from Michael when he'd seen her tying the red sneakers. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she _was_ too closed off. Maybe there was no hope that she would ever be able to connect with Isabel, with Michael, with _anyone_. Maybe-- 

**FLASH**  
_A small blonde girl holding tightly onto her brother's hand as they approach the schoolyard, looking around at the swarms of children around them, feeling distant and afraid._

**FLASH**  
_A slightly older Isabel bursting into tears, being gathered into her mother's warm arms and rocked back and forth until her shuddering subsides._

**FLASH**  
_Max, Isabel and Michael sitting at the Crashdown, passing a bottle of Tabasco and talking quietly._

**FLASH**  
_Isabel standing at her window, gazing out at the dark night, taking comfort from the feel of Michael's hand on her shoulder._

Awash in the dizzying scenes flashing before her eyes, Maria flinched as a white-hot light began to grow in the center of her vision. It pierced through her closed eyelids, obliterating the pictures she was receiving from the connection Isabel had made. She struggled to move, to cover her eyes, to escape the painful brightness, but could not. Tears began to pour from under her closed lids, running down her cheeks. Defiantly she opened her eyes to the light, expecting to be blinded by its brilliance. 

Instead she saw golden sand and a bright, empty sky. 

"Oh my god," she whispered, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from her eyes. 

Isabel's voice came from behind her, sounding a little surprised. "It worked." 

Maria took a few agitated steps toward Isabel. "What do you mean, it worked? You didn't think it would work? What are we doing here if you didn't think it would work?" 

"Calm down, Maria. I hoped it would. We needed it to. I just didn't know, all right?" 

The shorter girl relaxed slightly, and looked around her. "So this is Michael's dream, huh? Somehow I was expecting Playboy bunnies and giant bottles of Tabasco sauce." 

Isabel rolled her eyes before answering. "It's exactly like I left it. Sand and sky." 

"And you wandered around, and found nothing, right?" 

"Right." 

"So where are your footprints? This is sand you're walking on. There should be footprints all over." 

"I didn't leave any. The sand would move back into place as my feet lifted. I didn't leave any sign that I'd been here. Until Max pulled me out of it, I actually thought I was going to get lost." 

Maria's face paled slightly. "No footprints?" she whispered. Turning around and pointing at the sand behind her, she asked hesitantly, "Then what are those?" 

Isabel gasped as she saw three distinct footprints leading towards the spot where Maria stood. "Footprints..." She stared, troubled, into Maria's eyes. "Take a few more steps," she suggested. Maria did so, leaving a definite mark in the sand with each one. 

"I don't get it. This is really weird," Maria complained, pacing back and forth across the sand. "I mean, you're practically six feet tall. There's no way that I weigh enough to be leaving footprints and you don't." 

"I don't know either," Isabel admitted. "But things sometimes get really bizarre in dreams. Even though this doesn't feel like a dream, it is one. It has to be." 

Maria contemplated this thought for a moment, before continuing, "Okay, so it's normal for things to be weird. Well with you guys, I suppose it is. So let's see if we can make some progress here, even if things don't make sense. Time for the old tracking-sensing trick, huh?" She gave a snort of frustrated laughter. "Too bad you couldn't just bring a bloodhound in with you and be done with it." 

Isabel began, "Maria--" 

"I know, I know. I _am_ the bloodhound. Geez," she murmured under her breath, "I can't even be a cocker spaniel, or a French poodle, or even one of those Taco Bell dogs. No, I have to be a big old droopy bloodhound." Taking a few steps away from Isabel, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on Michael. 

Isabel waited impatiently, finally bursting out, "Well? Can you feel him?" 

"Hey, this isn't rocket science, you know," was the response. "Yeah, he's here." 

"Where? Where?" 

"He feels really nearby and very far away, all at the same time. It's like he's everywhere, you know? Which makes sense, I guess, if we're stuck in his head." Maria opened her eyes. "So which way do we go?" 

Isabel thought for a moment before slowly saying, "If he's everywhere, it won't matter which direction we take. He'll be there." 

Maria looked at her consideringly, then covered her eyes with one hand, pointing with the other. She spun around until she felt dizzy. "Okay," she said as she came to a stop. "Let's go that way."  
  


*****

Intent on the still forms of her three friends, Liz shook her head and tried to blink. She'd been so focused on the three of them that for a moment she thought her eyelids would refuse to move and she'd be stuck staring straight ahead for the rest of her life. Finally they cooperated, and she blinked rapidly, attempting to bring some moisture to her dry eyes. 

She looked blindly around the room for a clock. Alex spoke up softly, "Thirty-seven minutes. Twenty-three to go." Nodding, she blinked again before turning to gaze once more at the bed. Isabel and Maria lay unmoving, hands clutched tightly together. She could see their chests move in unison with each shallow breath they took. Max sat motionlessly on the edge of the bed, holding onto Isabel's arm with both hands. His eyes shut, he seemed dead to the world. Liz pressed her lips tightly together. This would work. It had to.  
  


*****

In the arid desert, Maria and Isabel trudged along, leaving one set of footprints trailing behind them. "You know, this is the desert. We should have brought some bottled water along with us," Maria commented. 

"We're lucky I could bring _you_ here, much less refreshments," Isabel snapped back. "Besides, this little trip is only for an hour. I think even you can survive that long, thank you very much." 

"Are you sure it's only an hour? It feels like a lot longer than that already." 

"Maria, would you stop complaining? You're not making this any easier, you know?" 

"Oh, so I'm here to make this easier? Who knew? I thought I was just your tracking do--" Her voice cut off abruptly as she fell backwards in the sand. 

Isabel rushed over to her. "Maria! Maria! Are you all right?" 

The reply was short and to the point. "Ouch." 

"What happened?" asked Isabel tensely. 

"What does it look like? I ran into something. It's right there..." Maria's voice trailed off as she sat up and looked expectantly ahead of her. She saw nothing but the ever-present stretch of desert sand. 

"What's right there? I don't see anything!" 

"Well, I don't see anything, either, but the massive lump on my forehead sure tells me there's something there. I don't care what sort of wonky dream Michael is having, there's no way I could be knocked over by something doesn't exist!" 

Isabel moved slowly towards Maria's feet. Slowly reaching out into the air beyond them, she tried to feel for what could have knocked the girl down. "I don't feel anything. Are you sure you didn't trip?" 

"Yes, I'm sure I didn't trip. I'm telling you, I ran into something. Something hard." She joined Isabel and began feeling the air in front of her. "It was right about...here." At that, her hand struck a hard surface. "Here, Isabel! Right here! Feel this!" 

The taller girl moved carefully over and placed her hand in the air next to Maria's. "I don't feel anyth...Oh." 

They both began sliding their hands up and down the invisible barrier before them. "It goes all the way to the ground," said Maria. "You're taller than me. Can you reach the top?" 

Isabel stretched up as far as she could, but the barrier exceeded her grasp. Picking up a fistful of sand, Maria tossed it in front of her. It flew through where the wall should be and quickly fell, mixing in with the sand several feet away. "It doesn't stop the sand, but it sure stopped me." 

"Maybe we can go around it," Isabel suggested. Maria began moving to the right, keeping her hands in constant contact with the unseen obstruction. Isabel followed. After a minute, she glanced back to see Maria's footprints curving away behind them. "Maria, I think that this obstruction, whatever it is, is round." 

Maria glanced back at her, then at the footprints, and began to move more swiftly around the impediment. Moments later, she'd reached the point where the marks in the sand turned abruptly to the side. "You're right, Isabel," she said, gazing at the ring of footprints in the sand before her. "I can see right through it, but it's there. It feels smooth, and kind of metallic." She paused for a moment, and then asked hopefully, "Do you think you can use your molecular manipulation thingy to make it visible?" 

Placing both hands on the unseen surface, Isabel concentrated, but got no response. She sat down on the sand, hissing, "Arrgghh! This is so frustrating!" 

"Well, that's Michael for you," responded Maria with a smirk. Leaning on both her hands, she rested her forehead against the smooth surface of the barrier and closed her eyes. They flew back open when she realized that she was feeling a familiar little tingle deep inside. "Isabel! I can feel him! I think he's _in_ there!" 

"What?" 

"Inside the cylindrical wall thing!" She began banging on the imperceptible wall in front of her, shouting, "Michael! Michael Guerin! Are you in there? You better get your butt out here, _buddy_!" 

Isabel remarked, "Oh yes, I'm sure threats will work." But she joined in pounding on the wall and calling Michael's name. 

The only response Maria got to her assault was reddening palms. In frustration, she pulled off her shoe and started slamming the barrier with the heel. "Michael... _(slam)_ ...Guerin!... _(slam)_ ...If... _(slam)_ ...you... _(slam)_ ...don't... _(slam)_ ...get... _(slam)_ ...out... _(slam)_ ...here... _(slam)_ ...right... _(slam)_ ...this... _(slam)_ ...minute... _(slam)_ ...I... _(slam)_ ...will..." 

Her threat went unfinished. Suddenly a bright light overwhelmed her. Dizzy, she swayed, dropping her shoe and falling towards the wall. As the light swirled up around her, she thought she heard an angry--and familiar--voice shout, "What the hell?" 

Maria opened her eyes, gasping, to find herself back in Isabel's room.  



	6. Masques: Chapter 6

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 6_  


"No! We were there! We found him!" screeched Maria hysterically. 

Liz clamped a hand over Maria's mouth. "Shhhh! You'll wake up Mr. & Mrs. Evans!" 

Pulling Liz's hand away from her face, Maria continued agitatedly--but much more quietly--"I cannot believe this! We found him. We were just about to get to him, and _poof_!! Here we are back in reality. This really sucks." 

Alex put a hand apologetically on her shoulder. "We agreed on an hour. An hour passed, so we woke you up." 

"It wasn't enough time," said Isabel. "But you weren't to know that." 

"Fine," Maria burst out. "So next time give us longer. I am going back in there and I am coming out with one sorry spike-headed Spaceboy, if it kills me! Or him!" 

Max spoke up from his place beside Isabel. "All right, we'll try again. But give us a few minutes, will you? Holding the connection between you and Isabel is harder than I'd thought." 

Liz glanced at Maria and noticed what she hadn't seen in all the commotion. "It's evidently hard on you, too, Maria. What happened to your shoe? And your forehead?" Her eyes widened as Maria explained. 

"Oh, that. I ran into this invisible wall." 

"Invisible wall?" 

"Uh-huh." 

Isabel confirmed her statement. "There's an invisible, cylindrical barrier in the middle of Michael's dream desert. Maria thinks he's inside it." 

"I don't just think he is. I know he is," Maria said stoutly. "Didn't you hear him, right before we were pulled out?" 

Isabel shook her head. "What did he say?" asked Max. 

Maria chuckled a bit. "He said, and I quote, 'What the hell?' Typical." 

Isabel nodded, her eyes shining. "Sounds like Michael. _Our_ Michael." 

Maria smiled brilliantly back at her. "So let's go give him a piece of our minds, shall we?" 

Isabel placed her fingers lightly on the swelling on Maria's forehead. "Just as soon as I fix this, okay?"  
  


*****

A short while later, Isabel and Maria found themselves back in the desert, where the trail of footprints began. "You know," remarked Maria innocently, "we still didn't bring any bottled water with us." 

Isabel glared at her and then burst into laughter. "Tell you what," she said. "Let's take care of Michael, and tomorrow I will buy you an entire case full of bottled water. And a box of alien-shaped bendy straws. How's that?" 

Grinning, Maria cried, "You're on. Race you to the wall!" And with that, she took off across the sand. 

Isabel easily caught up with her, and they jogged in tandem along the line of footprints, slowing as they neared the circle that marked the otherwise intangible barrier. "What next, oh one-shoe-wonder? More yelling?" 

"Uh-huh. Little Mikey is going to come out and play now, whether he likes it or not," Maria said in a determined voice. "I will knock down the entire barrier if I have to. I've already knocked down a stone wall; a little old invisible one is certainly not going to stop me." Isabel looked at her, impressed, then gestured for her to have at it. 

"First things first," Maria decided. Crouching down, she began to search the sand for her missing shoe. When she was unable to find it, she shrugged and pulled off its mate, preparing once again to set upon the obstruction before her. "Michael," she called sweetly, gripping the shoe, "Oh, Michael...If you don't want me to bash in your little wall here, you might want to step outside it for a minute." 

There was no movement before her. Gritting her teeth, she called once more, "Michael?" then muttered, "Fine. If that's the way you want to play it, Spaceboy." Lifting the shoe, she counted aloud, "One! Two! Thr--" 

An oh-so-familiar voice arose out of nowhere. "Maria?" 

"Michael!" she squealed. "It's me! And Isabel. Where are you?" 

The voice ignored her question, barking "What the hell are you two doing here?" 

"We came looking for you, you idiot," said Isabel affectionately. 

"How did you--You shouldn't be here. Get the hell out!" 

The two girls smiled broadly at each other. This was definitely their Michael, not the automaton who'd been parading through Roswell for the last few weeks. Maria spoke up joyfully. "We just found you, Spaceboy, and we are not leaving until you come out of there and tell us what's wrong with you." 

"No. Get out of here." 

"No?" the girls said threateningly. 

"Look, I...I can't, all right?" the voice said in frustration. 

"What do you mean, you can't?" cried Maria, as Isabel put in, "Can't tell us what's wrong, or can't come out?" 

The voice came again, crossly. "Can't come out." 

Maria began to feel her exasperation build. "Can't or won't?" Receiving no answer, she spit out again, "Can't or _won't_, Michael?" 

"Can't, dammit!" 

"Why not?" 

The answer was abrupt. "No door." 

"Well, it's your dream, Michael," said Isabel. "So dream up a door, and do it fast." 

"It's not a dream." 

"Not a..." 

Silence. Then a hesitant "What do you mean, it's not a dream?" from Isabel. "I dreamwalked you, you're here. It must be a dream." 

"You're in my dream, okay? I'm not." 

"Well where are you, then?" shouted Isabel. 

There was a pause, and then the two girls barely heard a muttered, "Doesn't matter." Another pause, and then the voice rose again, more commandingly. "So would you just get out of here already? Go take your little dreamwalking games and play them someplace else. You're not wanted here." 

Speechless for a moment, Maria looked at Isabel, whose forehead was wrinkled with concern. She lifted an eyebrow and motioned with her head towards the barrier. Isabel nodded firmly. Pointedly ignoring Michael's last few comments, Maria said, "He can't get out, you can't use your manipulation powers...I guess we're back to Plan A, an evening of good old-fashioned demolition. Michael," she called, "we're going to try and knock a hole in the wall." 

"Did I or did I not just tell you to get out of here?" he snapped. "Besides, I already tried that." 

"And now _we're_ going to." With that, Maria began flailing away at the wall with her shoe. Isabel immediately joined in, beating on the barrier with her fists. 

After a few minutes of unsuccessful pounding, Maria called out, "You could give us a little help here, Michael! Pick something up and start busting through." 

The sarcastic response came quickly. "Pick what up? All I've got in here is this shoe." 

Maria came to a standstill. "Shoe?" 

"Yeah, a little while ago, this shoe fell out of nowhere and hit me on the head. So?" 

Once again, Maria's eyes met Isabel's before she answered, "Michael, that's _my_ shoe." 

Isabel began to pace, thinking aloud. "Sand goes through, as if the barrier and what's behind it doesn't exist. People don't go through, but one of your shoes does? I don't get it." 

Maria leaned against the wall, once more resting her forehead against it. "This is really weird, Michael. We're in your dream, but it's not a dream. What happened to you? Who put you in there? Who did this to you?" 

For a moment, no answer came. Then Michael spoke softly, reluctantly admitting, "I did." Her heart broke. 

"Oh, Michael..." Opening her hand, she placed it flat against the smooth surface of the wall. Her eyes welled up. She could almost feel the confusion and hatred and turmoil breaking off of him in waves. She closed her eyes and swallowed convulsively. 

The smooth surface beneath her hand began to roughen and grow warmer. Maria opened her eyes only to be transfixed at the sight of a strong brown hand inches away from hers, on the other side of the invisible wall. She jerked back several steps in shock, then tore her eyes away from his hand. Almost reluctantly, she slowly raised her head to meet the brown eyes that gazed hungrily into hers. "Michael," she breathed. 

Behind her, Isabel gasped. 

The only thought in Maria's mind was to get to him. Now. She rushed precipitously back towards the wall, her sock-clad feet slipping in the sand. Losing her balance, she found herself falling once more towards the barrier that she couldn't see but knew was there. This time, there was no flash of intense white light to pull her away. She flinched, anticipating the hard smack of her body against the unyielding surface; instead, her body plummeted to meet a strong, muscular one, knocking Michael off his feet and landing on top of him. 

"Maria! Michael!" Isabel cried from a few paces away. Then, for the second time that night, she woke abruptly in her own room. Sitting up quickly, she looked at her brother, Alex and Liz, and then followed their shocked gazes to the empty spot on the bed next to her... 

...and across town, a calm, unemotional Michael Guerin woke and lay staring dully through the dim gloom at the ceiling above him.  
  
TBC...  
  



	7. Masques: Chapter 7

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 7_  


"Oh my god," Liz whispered numbly as she stood over the bed in shock. She blindly made her way to Max and threw herself into his arms. 

Isabel looked around in confusion at the blank faces around her and asked, "Where is Maria?" Her voice rose shakily. "Where is she? _Where is she?_" 

Alex blinked and found the power to move. Crossing swiftly to her side, he knelt by the bed and took her hands. "I don't know," he said, shaken. "She was there one minute, and the next she just...disappeared...and you and Max came out of it." 

"What happened in there?" asked Max, still holding tightly to Liz. 

"We went back to the cylinder. He was there, Max, our Michael was there. We couldn't see him, but he was there." The words poured out of her. "He talked--no, he _yelled_ at us and told us to leave, but Maria was determined to get through to him and she started banging on the barrier with her shoe and he had the other one and then we could see him and Maria tripped and fell and then I...I woke up." 

"You've got to go back in, Isabel," Liz insisted. "You have to find her." 

"I'll go with you this time," offered Alex. 

"No! No one can go back in with me. It's not safe." 

Alex protested, "If it's not safe, then you shouldn't do it alone, Isabel." 

"It's the only way. I won't risk you too. What if what happened to Maria happens to you? No. I have to do this alone." 

Alex plunged on. "What about Max?" 

"He can't dreamwalk. Neither he nor Michael is very good at it. Besides, if something happens to me, he's the only one with a hope of getting us out." 

"She's right, Alex. God! I want to do something, but Isabel is our best chance," Max burst out. 

Isabel grasped his hand. "You can do something. You can be here for me. I need to know that you're here. I need to know all three of you are here." 

Max nodded, then let go of Liz to pull his sister into a tight hug. "Be careful, all right?" 

"I will." Isabel lay down on the bed for the fourth time that night, and picked up the photo of the three aliens. Staring at it, she blinked furiously in an effort to keep the moisture in her eyes from rolling down her cheeks. She had only minimal success and Alex reached over to wipe an errant tear away. She smiled shakily at him, and then gazed fixedly at the photograph. If only Michael would let her in. He just had to let her in.  
  


*****

Maria lifted her head and looked directly into the annoyed eyes of one very ticked off Michael Guerin. "Michael," she breathed again, and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank god." 

For a moment, she thought she felt his arms begin to close around her. It had been so long since he'd held her, since she'd felt this safe, this at home. Her expectations were quickly dashed, however, as he stopped the movement he'd barely started and relaxed his arms back onto the floor. 

"Are you gonna get off me, or what?" he asked rudely. Scrambling up, she made certain to plant an elbow in his diaphragm, causing him to grunt in pain. He remained sprawled on the ground, staring up at her, his face unreadable. "What the hell are you doing here, Maria?" 

"Here? Where exactly is here?" she countered, brushing herself off as she gazed at her surroundings. The two of them were in some sort of round room, with gray metallic floors and walls that stretched up higher than she could see. "What is this place?" 

"I told you before, it doesn't matter," he snapped. "Now will you do what I said and get out of here? Finally?" 

"No, Michael, I'm not leaving until you tell me what is wrong with you." 

His voice rose threateningly as he sat up. "Oh yes, you are. You're leaving. Now." 

"You can't make me go if I don't want to, Michael!" she spat at him. Looking furiously around, she added "Besides, where do you want me to go?" 

"I don't care! Same place you came from is fine!" 

"Little problem there. No door, Einstein." 

He pulled himself hurriedly to his feet and stormed over to the wall behind her. Feeling along it, he began to curse under his breath. Finally he gave up and pounded his fist into the hard surface with all his might. "_Dammit!_" He punched the wall several more times and threw in a few kicks for good measure. 

"Stop, Michael," cried Maria as she put her arms around him from behind and held him tightly. "Stop it. You're going to hurt yourself." His frantic movements calmed somewhat, and she leaned her head against his back. "It's okay. It's okay, Michael. Everything is going to be okay."  
  


*****

Moving restlessly on the bed, Isabel finally gave up and opened her eyes. "I can't do it," she said shortly. "He's not asleep any more. God! Why is this happening?" 

"We'll fix things, Izzy," her brother said, sitting on the edge of the bed and holding her hands. "I promise. But we need to know exactly what happened in Michael's dream." 

"It wasn't a dream," she remembered suddenly. "That's what Michael said. It wasn't a dream. Or at least we were in his dream, but he wasn't." 

"He wasn't? Where was he?" 

"I don't _know_, Max. He wouldn't say. It all happened so quickly, and then I was here, and she was just...gone," Isabel shuddered. 

Burying his head in his hands, Max vainly tried to make sense out of what had happened. Once again, everything seemed to be spinning out of his control. He had to get it back. For Isabel. For Michael. For all of them. 

"Max," said Liz, who had been silent since the failed dreamwalking attempt, "I'm not sure we're equipped to handle this alone. There's too much we don't understand. Maybe you need to go directly to the source." He looked up at her. "Go to Michael. Tell him Maria has disappeared. Make him help us. He will, for Maria. He has to." 

"I'll go with you," offered Alex stoutly. 

Looking at Alex, Max could see the tension in his face, but his eyes reflected nothing but determination and loyalty...and hope. "All right," he agreed. "We'll go now. Isabel, you and Liz stay here and cover for me in case Mom and Dad wake up. Alex and I will take your cell phone so you can call us if anything...happens. Try to get some rest, okay?" 

Isabel gave him a small, worried smile before repeating his earlier words to her. "Be careful, all right?" 

"We will, Izzy. We will."  
  


*****

Michael stood motionless for a few brief moments before pulling away from her. Continuing to stare at the wall before him, he tried to hold in the sense of panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. She shouldn't be here. It wasn't safe. He should have been able to stop her, to keep her out of this whole goddamn fucking mess. But no. As usual, he had to go and be a stupid fuckup. He-- 

"Michael?" Her voice was softer than he'd remembered it, and there was obvious concern in it. But then she was always concerned about him, how he was doing, what he was feeling...She sometimes worried more about him that she did her own self. Sometimes? A lot of the time. It wasn't right. And there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. 

"It's never going to be enough, is it?" he said, half to himself. 

"What?" 

"It's never going to be enough," he repeated. "No matter what I do, I'm never going to be able to fix things, to make them the way they should be." Again, he almost seemed to be speaking with himself. 

Maria hesitated, and then said quietly, "I don't know what's going on with you, but I care, Michael. I'm here if you need to talk about it." She chuckled ruefully and added, "Actually, it looks like I'm here whether you need to talk about it or not. So just take your time, okay? I'm not going anywhere." 

He nodded, but remained turned away from her. 

"So," she ventured, "that was your dream world out there? Lotta sand." 

"What were you expecting, giant Tabasco bottles and Playboy bunnies?" She burst into laughter and he spun around, frowning at her. "What?" he said crossly. 

Her eyes danced as she answered him coolly. "Oh, nothing. Just a conversation Isabel and I had." 

Michael eyed her suspiciously, but decided not to press. It would be better not to know. 

He watched her pick up the shoe she'd dropped when she'd body-slammed him into the ground and settle down on the floor to pull it on. Wordlessly, he picked up its mate and bent to hand it to her. She smiled warmly at him and reached for the shoe, and then stopped as she noticed how dirty and torn the sleeve of his long-sleeved T-shirt had become. 

Her hands bypassed the shoe he was holding and went straight for his arm. He tensed up and tried to pull away, but she would have none of it. "Hold still! Let me see," she commanded, rising to her knees. Carefully peeling back the ruined cuff of his shirt, she gasped as she saw the angry burns and bruising that covered his forearm. "Michael! What happened to you?" she cried agitatedly. 

He shrugged it off. "Tried to use my powers. Backfired." 

"Can you heal it?" she asked. He shot her a pointed look and she quickly stifled her next comment. "Well, at least we can clean it up a bit," she finally said. She looked around the room for something to use to clean and bind it, but found nothing there. Nothing except her and Michael and the shoe he was still holding. "I told Isabel we should have brought some bottled water," she grumbled, sitting back on her heels and gently pulling the remains of the sleeve back over his damaged flesh. Taking the shoe he was still clutching from him she dropping it on the floor, then stroked the back of his hand before placing upon it a feather-light kiss. "There. That will help." 

He pulled away from her, but not abruptly, and she settled back down to pull on her other shoe. Leaning back against the wall, she watched as he ran his hand through his hair distractedly and then stuffed both hands into his jeans pockets. His eyes moved rapidly around the room as he tried to gaze anywhere she wasn't. Maria chuckled softly and, as his eyes swung back to her, patted the ground next to her. Slowly he moved toward her and sat, making sure to keep several feet between them. 

"So, your dream, Michael," she said, determined to draw him back into conversation. "It was...interesting." 

"Interesting, huh?" 

"Uh huh." 

He looked at her, his brow wrinkling. "Why? What'd you see? Wait--how'd you get in, anyway?" 

"Isabel brought me. She connected with me and then dreamwalked you. Max somehow strengthened the connection. Michael, I saw flashes." 

Michael tensed. She'd seen flashes. She'd gotten flashes from connecting with Isabel. Right. Isabel didn't keep herself shut off from the world. Isabel wasn't so closely guarded it hurt. _Isabel_ could open up to a person without destroying everything. He suddenly realized Maria was still talking. 

"...as a little girl, and her and Max at school, and I saw the three of you together. You are so important to her, Michael. You have no idea how important you are. That's why she's been so worried about you the past few weeks. You've been distant all summer, even for you, but when you started being so cold--" 

"When I what?" he interrupted, startled. 

"You know, when you started avoiding Max and Isabel, not just me. When you started being so...well, so not like you. Like you were in your apartment on Monday. The past few weeks have been really hard on them, Michael." 

"The past few..." He stopped and sat there, unmoving, but she could almost _see_ his brain working. His mouth opened, as if to say something, then closed; she watched him curiously. After a few moments, he asked hoarsely, "What day is it, Maria?" 

"Friday, October 13. Huh. Friday the thirteenth. Should have seen that one coming." 

Practically leaping to his feet, he began to pace back and forth across the small cell-like room. His mouth worked a little more before he was able to continue. "Maria...The last time I was at my apartment was in September. I've been here for almost three weeks."  
  
TBC...  
  



	8. Masques: Chapter 8

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 8_  


Alex followed close on Max's heels as they climbed the stairs in Michael's apartment building. They had to find Maria, and fast. And then they had to figure out what was wrong with Michael, not just for Maria's sake, but for Michael's. Alex had actually grown to like the stubborn loner, whose wry sense of humor meshed surprisingly well with his own more playful style. Plus, all appearances aside, Michael really cared for Maria, probably as much as, and maybe even more than, she for him. Alex had never seen her as alive as she had seemed since she'd fallen for Michael. At times she practically glowed with happiness around him. And Michael had become much less prickly around her. Well, around all of them, really. At least until the whole destiny fiasco last May. 

He just hoped that Maria's peril would pull the taciturn alien out of whatever mental quagmire he was wallowing in, because, frankly, Alex was at a loss as to what to do next. Computer hacking, fine. Hooking up spy equipment, no problem. But people who vanish right in front of you? Maybe he should have asked for a Junior Magician kit for his eleventh birthday instead of that DOOM video game cartridge... 

Reaching the top of the stairs, the pair moved swiftly towards Michael's apartment. Alex nodded his readiness when Max glanced at him, and then watched his friend as he set his shoulders before tapping lightly on the door. Alex found himself clenching his fists with tension as they waited. And waited. Max whispered, "I don't want to be too loud. We have enough to deal with without trouble from Michael's neighbors," but he knocked a little harder anyway. There was still no response. Finally, Alex gestured suggestively towards the door, and Max used his powers to unlock it. 

The room was dark, with only enough moonlight streaming through the window for Alex to make out a still form sitting on the worn couch. He gave no sign of having noticed them. 

"Michael?" said Max softly. 

Slowly Michael's head turned towards them and he seemed to finally take them in. His voice when he spoke was as unemotional as the expression on his still face. "Funny. I don't remember requesting visitors at three in the morning." Turning back, he resumed staring at the faded wallpaper across the room. 

A silent conversation passed between Alex and Max, and then the alien stepped forward to take charge of the situation. "We have a problem." 

"And why exactly do you think I care?" was the response, maddening because of its evenness. 

Max tried to be reasonable. "This affects you, Michael. It affects all of us. Something happened tonight." 

"So?" 

"If you would just listen for a minute--" 

"I don't think so, Max. Now why don't the two of you get out? Feel free to lock the door behind you." 

Alex felt his little-used temper begin to boil. "Would you just listen to him? We need to tell you something, so listen up, or--" 

"Or?" Michael raised one eyebrow sardonically. 

Alex lost it. "Or I will personally pound you until you are nothing but a little pile of teeny tiny alien bits!" he shouted, leaning over Michael and practically spitting in his face. Michael didn't even blink. 

"Calm down, Alex," said Max, pulling him away. "You're not helping. Michael, just listen to us. Please. It's important. You have to listen," he continued in desperation as his remote friend made no response. 

Michael turned and looked him in the eye. "And then you'll leave?" 

"If you still want us to go once you hear us out, we'll go." 

"Fine. You have five minutes."  
  


*****

Maria leaned against the wall, idly fingering the butterfly-shaped hair clip she'd put on so many hours ago. Michael hadn't spoken since his terse proclamation about being stuck here for three weeks, instead prowling restlessly around the room. Maria hadn't pressed him, hoping he would soon work through whatever idea was percolating in his brain. Sighing, she rubbed her temples, and then looked up, surprised, as he spoke. 

"Tell me what's been going on for the last few weeks." 

"Well," she answered, "you've been acting really strangely, even for you. You know how you have a tendency to be Mr. 'Back Off From Anything Even Remotely Intense'?" He had the grace to look discomfited. "Well, once again you've been pulling your famous little running game, but it's more than that this time. You're there and not there at the same time, if you know what I mean. I see you in school, and you ignore me completely--which, by the way, drives me absolutely nuts, buddy. And it's not like you're purposely avoiding me, it's more like I don't even exist." 

She could see his jaw clench. "Maria, I..." he began. 

"No, it's all right, Michael. That doesn't matter right now. We have more important things to worry about. Things like, oh, I don't know, getting you out of here so you can go save your home planet, and stuff like that." She heard a tremor creep into her voice and smothered it immediately. "Sorry. Anyway, what's important right now is you and Max and Isabel. You need each other now, more than ever, but Isabel says you've been using the gas station as an excuse not to spend any time at all with her and Max. You've totally cut yourself off. She's really worried about you." She paused, and then commented, "You know, I think we already had this conversation. In your apartment, as a matter of fact." 

"I've been there. In Roswell. You've seen me at school and stuff." It was a statement, not a question. 

"Yeah." 

"It wasn't me." 

"Of course it was you. I saw you." 

"You can't have seen me 'cause I wasn't there." 

"Yes, you were," Maria doggedly insisted. 

He resumed his frenetic pacing. "If I was there, then why don't I remember any of it?" 

"Gee, I don't know, Michael. Maybe you were sleepwalking. Maybe you're suffering from some sort of alien-based amnesia. But you were definitely there. Believe me, that I do know." 

Michael's eyes narrowed. "You _know_. What's that supposed to mean?" 

She flushed uncomfortably. She did _not_ want to get into this. "It doesn't matter. Just take my word for it, okay?" He stared intently at her. "What?" she exclaimed defensively, "You're allowed to be all closed off and have secrets, and I'm not, is that it?" 

"That's right," he said firmly. "Now talk." 

She gave in with ill-mannered grace. "Okay, but you owe me. Got that?" He nodded reluctantly and she admitted, gazing at the floor, "I can tell when you're around." His eyes narrowed even further as he continued to stare intently at her. "Whenever you're near, I get this...I feel...Look, let's just say I know, okay? I've got 100% Grade A Michael radar. That's why Isabel brought me into your dream in the first place. She couldn't find you in your dream and we thought maybe I could track you down, and I did and it worked and here we are," she finished in a rush of air. 

Michael looked totally taken aback as he stood there in shock. Finally, he tried to pull his few fragments of thought together into a coherent sentence, and managed to stutter out, "You can..." 

"Yeah." 

Once again, he ran his hand distractedly through his disheveled hair. "You're sure?" 

"I'm sure, Michael." 

"Well, maybe it's an alien thing. What about Max and Isabel? Can you sense them?" he asked, grasping at straws. 

"Just you, Michael. Look, it's not like I'm purposely invading your privacy or anything, you know. I can't read your mind. I just know when you're around, that's all." 

He nodded hesitantly. 

"Makes you uncomfortable, doesn't it?" she asked. 

"Well, yeah." 

"Why?" He looked panicky at the question and she decided to let him off the hook. "Never mind. Just accept it and move on. I have." 

"Okay," he said uncertainly, and once again began to pace across the room, more slowly this time. "I still don't remember any of it, though. I just remember this room." 

Maria tried to come up with an explanation, with little success. "I don't get it, either, Michael. Hey, maybe you did sleepwalk," she added with a chuckle. 

"Can't sleepwalk if I don't sleep," he muttered. 

Her ears pricked up, and she demanded, "You don't sleep? At all?" 

"No. Not in here." 

"Don't you get tired?" 

"Of course I get tired," Michael snapped, irritated. "I just can't sleep, that's all." 

"Well, what do you do then?" Looking around, she commented, "You're not exactly flush for entertainment in here." 

"I don't do anything." 

"You don't do anything?" she repeated with a disbelieving laugh. "Michael Guerin sitting in a room doing nothing. Boy, that's got to be just _killing_ you." A thought struck her. "You don't do _anything_? You haven't done anything at all for three weeks?" 

"I didn't know it was three weeks until you showed up and told me. It's hard to keep track of time in here. One day runs into another until you can't tell when one begins and the other ends. Nothing changes. It's always exactly the same." 

"Nothing changes? At all?" 

"Well, nothing changed until someone dropped a shoe on my head--" he began pointedly. 

"Sorry about that." 

He shrugged. "And then you were there." 

"Well, at least you've got me to entertain you now," she said brightly. "Things are looking up!" 

Looming over her in exasperation, he shouted, "Things are not 'looking up', Maria. It's bad enough that I'm stuck in here, but now I have to deal with you, too?" 

She flinched and looked away. Contrite, he dropped to his knees by her side and said, "I didn't mean it, Maria. Not that way. I just...Hell, I don't know what I meant." 

She nodded and looked down at her hands. He tentatively reached out and covered them with his. "Look, I'm...sorry," he said quietly. "Sorry for shooting my mouth off, sorry for not being able to talk to you about things, hell, sorry for getting you into this whole mess in the first place." 

Maria looked at him, surprised. He had used the word 'sorry'. Four times in one little speech. This was probably a record for him. Wait a minute; maybe this wasn't such a good reaction. It was too unlike him. What was going on in that warped brain of his? She shook her head, feeling a little dizzy for a moment, then shook off his hands and rose to her feet. "Actually, I think that was Liz, not you. Well, Liz and Max. You didn't get shot; you didn't heal Liz; you didn't drag your wacky best friend kicking and screaming into the secret of the century. It's not your fault, Michael." 

"It's my fault that you're stuck here," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him. 

"Michael, I'm here because I _chose_ to be here. I knew it was risky, but I made the choice. It was my decision." 

"Yeah?" he asked, rising, "And exactly why did you make that decision?" 

"Because I...Because we were all worried about you!" 

"You see? My fault," he stated matter-of-factly. 

Maria reached up and, grabbing his chin, turned his face so he was looking her directly in the eye. "For the last time, it is _not_ your fault, Michael! I do what I want to do. You do not control my actions, not any more. And if I want to go on a wild alien-hunting safari, then I will! So shut up with the blame. It...is..._not_...your...fault! Got it?" In her rage, she stumbled a bit. He caught her and kept her from plummeting to the floor. 

"Hey, watch it." 

She shook her head in exasperation and said crossly, "I've just been really clumsy tonight. It's nothing." 

He stared at her, his eyes narrowing in concern as he took in her suddenly pale face and glassy eyes. "Are you sure? You--" 

"Yes, I am sure, Michael. God! You'd think you were my mother or something," she said, pulling away from him. 

He smirked and shot back, "Your mother? I don't think so." Suddenly reaching out, he caught her again as she swayed. "Something _is_ wrong, Maria." 

"I'm okay...I just feel really tired all of a sudden. Well, it's got to be like four in the morning, so I guess that's no surprise." 

"Why don't you try to get some rest? I'll keep an eye out in case anything happens. Not like I'm gonna be able to sleep anyway." He led her back over to the wall and helped her to sit, leaning against it. He hesitated, and then sat next to her. Putting an arm around her, he said softly, "Here. Lean on me." 

Smiling, she relaxed into his embrace, feeling strangely at home. Moments like this were few with Michael. Even when they had been together, they'd usually spent most of their time either arguing or making out. This was nice. "Thanks," she said sleepily and then chuckled quietly. 

"What?" he asked. 

"This has got to be the longest conversation we've ever had." 

"Yeah," he answered. His arm tightened around her. 

And Michael Guerin sat, watching, as she fell asleep in his arms.  
  
TBC...  
  



	9. Masques: Chapter 9

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 9_  


Alex and Max looked at each other for a moment, and then Alex gestured for his friend to start talking. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold on to his temper if he didn't concentrate on it, and to lose it twice in one night...Besides, he didn't want to have to make good on his threat of physical violence against the infuriatingly calm, yet incredibly strong, alien. For all his anger, he knew who would come out the worst in that battle. 

Max swallowed and said, "Look, Michael, you have to know we've been worried about you. We wanted to find out what your problem was, and you haven't been exactly forthcoming, so tonight Isabel dreamwalked you." 

There was no response from the alien on the couch. 

"Anyway, we hoped that Maria would be able to help sort things out, so Isabel took her into the dream with her." 

Still no response. 

"And they found you, but we pulled them out of your dream before they could figure out what was going on. So they went in again, and this time, Maria..." his voice trailed off as he searched for a way to say what he had to. 

Enough was enough. Tired of waiting for the axe to fall, Alex spoke up. "Maria disappeared. Literally. Vanished. Poof! Gone." 

The still figure on the couch became even more motionless, if that was possible. 

"So we need your help, Michael," said Max, hoping his friend would snap out of it and be the rash, impulsive, _alive_ Michael he knew. "We've got to find out what happened to her and get her back." 

When it came, the voice was barely loud enough to be heard. "I can't help you." 

"You _have_ to help!" Alex shouted. "This is Maria! You know, the girl who loves you? The girl you're in love with, for Pete's sake! Get over whatever problem it is you think you're having and give us some help. We cannot do this alone." He actually growled in exasperation before pulling Max over to the corner of the kitchen and whispering urgently, "Look, I don't think talking is going to convince him. Can you use your powers and _show_ him what happened?" 

Max shook his head. "To do that--to purposely force an image into his head without permission--it's no better than some of what Pierce did to me." 

"Max, I'm begging you. What if it were Liz?" Max tensed and then nodded slowly. 

"All right. But be on your toes. I'm not sure how he'll react." 

"As long as he reacts _somehow_, I'll be happy," Alex murmured under his breath before following Max back over to the couch. 

"Your five minutes are up, Max. Leave now," commanded the figure still sitting there. 

"I'm sorry," said Max, apologizing in advance as he grabbed Michael's arm and attempted to make a connection. Alex watched with bated breath as Max struggled to get into Michael's head. Work, dammit. It has to work. Too much is at stake here. 

Suddenly, Michael stiffened. After an interminable-seeming moment, he pulled away from Max, who let out a deep breath. Another long moment passed as Michael stared blankly at his friend. Then his face became alive--actually more animated than Alex had ever seen it--and he yelped, "Oh my god. Oh my god! Why did you show me that?" Almost catapulting himself from the couch, he blurted, "That was like, way too freaky. Oh my god. Oh my god," he kept repeating in a panic, stumbling across the room to the kitchen area. Digging in the pocket of the denim jacket that was tossed on the counter, he pulled out a small vial. Alex and Max watched, flabbergasted, as Michael pulled out the stopper of the tiny bottle of cedar oil and inhaled. 

Alex swallowed. That was really _not_ the reaction he had in mind...  
  


*****

Michael sat quietly, idly stroking Maria's hand. In her sleep, she'd snuggled up even closer to him. He was amazed that she could feel so relaxed near to him, after all the times he'd hurt her. Hell, the last had only been an hour or so ago. And yet, here she was, tucked into his arms like she was safe at home. He didn't get it. 

Of course, that was only one of a lot of things he didn't get. He wasn't stupid, but somehow he had never seemed able to get to the deep-down answers about the way things worked, about why people were the way they were. Not that he didn't have questions--those he had plenty of. Half the time he was silent, it was because too many thoughts were rushing through his head for him to be able to articulate at once, so instead he would stand and gape like an idiot. 

But of all the questions he had about the universe and his place in it, Maria was the biggest puzzle. He understood why he cared about her. Why he _needed_ her. Why she was so precious that he couldn't let anything hurt her anymore, not even him. But he thought he would never, not in a million lifetimes or on a million worlds, understand why she would--how she could possibly--care for him. The fuckup. The alien. But she did. And for that, he would be eternally grateful. Even when he had to walk away from her. 

Looking down at the girl asleep in his arms, he planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. At least they could have this time together. Where she was safe, from him and from the problems caused by the very fact that he was who--and what--he was. He gave a little half smile, thankful that no one was there to see him in all his wussy splendor. He didn't like to show his well-hidden softer side to anyone. Not Max and Isabel. Not even Maria, although she'd somehow bored her way into his heart. Hey, he didn't even like to see it himself. It made him uncomfortable. But no one was there to see him right now, and Maria was asleep, so he allowed himself the all-too-human luxury of sitting for one brief moment at peace with a blond pixie in his arms. 

She mumbled slightly in her sleep, and began to move restlessly. Was she having a nightmare? "Shhhh," he whispered softly. "It's okay. You're safe here." He stroked her hair, but she continued her restive movements. Beginning to get a little concerned, he studied her face carefully. It seemed paler than it had earlier, with little color in her cheeks and lips, and her brow was furrowed. Whatever was happening in her dream, it wasn't letting her get any much-needed rest. "Maria," he said a little more loudly, "Wake up. You're having a nightmare." She didn't rouse from her uneasy slumber. "Maria!" he repeated, shaking her gently. Still no response. What the hell was going on?  
  


*****

Isabel picked at the remnants of nail polish on her left thumb. She'd already scraped the polish from the rest of that hand, bit by bit. No matter what it was doing to her manicure. It was all she could do not to scream with impatience. When would Max and Alex get back? Or at least call? She looked over at Liz, who was sitting sideways on the desk chair that Alex had vacated so long ago. Liz's folded arms were draped across the chair's tall back, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on them. She seemed lost in thought, but looked up after a moment and gave Isabel a worried smile. 

"It's been too long," complained Isabel. "They should have been back by now." 

"It hasn't even been an hour," Liz pointed out, trying to keep calm in the face of the other girl's nervousness. 

"I know," Isabel admitted. "I just can't stand this waiting. We should be doing something instead of just sitting here! Something. Anything!" 

"Max and Alex will call or get back as soon as they can get through to Michael," said Liz calmly, inwardly hoping that she was right. Isabel settled back down on the floor, where she'd been leaning against her dresser. Neither one had wanted to sit on the bed. It was where they'd last seen Maria. The alien shivered a little, and then moved on to methodically destroying the manicure of her right hand. 

She looked up as Liz hissed, "Isabel! Look!" Following Liz's gaze to the bed, Isabel blinked her eyes rapidly in disbelief. No. It wasn't possible. But it was. She could see Maria, lying in the same place she had been during their ill-fated dreamwalk. It was Maria. But she was only faintly there. Isabel could still see the pattern of her comforter right through the girl's form. The image flickered a few times, and then disappeared. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, somehow, Isabel found her voice and asked shakily, "Liz? Did you..." 

"Yeah," Liz answered, in a voice just as shaky as Isabel's. "It was Maria. She was almost there for a moment, and then she disappeared. Again." 

"Look, I...I could see right through her. Do you think she was a--" Isabel could barely bring herself to say the word. "Ghost?" 

"No. I don't believe in ghosts," Liz said firmly, trying to convince herself. "Wherever Maria is, she's not dead. Believe that." Isabel nodded. "Do you think it could have been Tess?" Liz went on, hesitantly. "Making us see things that aren't there?" 

"No. We've kept her out of everything that's happened. She doesn't know what's going on." 

Liz looked again at the bed. It somehow seemed even emptier than it had a few minutes ago. "Did she look...different to you?" she asked hesitantly. 

"Different?" questioned Isabel. "From the little I could see, she looked...well, kind of tired. Worn out." 

"I think it's more than that. She looked sick, Isabel." 

Looking Liz in the eye, Isabel commanded, "Call them. Now."  
  


*****

Until the phone rang, Alex felt frozen to the floor. This was getting weird. Weird upon weird. He knew Michael hadn't been acting like himself for the last few weeks, but he wasn't diametrically different from the Michael Alex thought he knew. He was just more closed off than ever. Not like now, when he was acting more like...Well, like...Alex didn't want to even _think_ the thought. The ringing of Isabel's cell phone snapped him out of his reverie. 

Michael was still standing in the kitchen with his cedar oil, babbling animatedly away, as Alex turned the phone on and said, "Hello?" 

"It's Liz," he heard. "You guys need to get back here right now. Things are getting stranger and stranger." 

"Tell me about it," he responded. "Okay. We'll be there in fifteen minutes. And we're bringing Michael." 

"Michael? You talked to him? He agreed to help?" 

Alex eyed the alien, who was waving his arms around as he talked to Max. "Well, he's...he...ummm, yeah. You know, you wouldn't believe it if I told you. We'll be there soon."  
  


*****

Alex sighed as he and Max approached Max's bedroom window, Michael in tow. They'd been able to pull the frantically jabbering alien out of his apartment with no trouble, and had made good time on their way back to the Evanses' house. He had been relieved when Michael had abruptly stopped talking, a set look coming over his face. He was back to being Stony Michael, but he still allowed himself to be towed along in their wake. At least he was quiet. There was no sound in the early morning except the slap of their sneakers and Michael's boots hitting the pavement as they ran swiftly across town. 

Putting up a hand in caution, Max used his powers to open the window and then climbed stealthily into his room. Alex looked at Michael and, when the alien made no move toward the window, took him by the shoulders and pushed him over to the open casement. Michael paused for a moment, and then climbed deliberately in, as he'd done a million times before. Alex followed, less gracefully. 

In the dark, Max crept to the door and slowly opened it, peering into the dim hallway. No sign of parental life; the coast was clear. He led the others to Isabel's door, opened it and gestured for them to precede him into his sister's room. Startled at their entrance, the two girls jerked around in mid-conversation before Isabel rushed agitatedly towards her brother. From the chair, Liz looked worriedly at Alex. Michael stood, silent, by the doorway. 

Shutting the door, Max took Isabel by the shoulders. "What is it, Izzy?" he asked gently, concerned at the look of shock and confusion in her eyes. Liz didn't look much better. "What happened?" 

"Maria," Isabel responded. "She came back. She was here, and then she wasn't again. We could see right through her." 

"What?" asked Alex sharply. 

Liz nodded in confirmation, and added, "She appeared on the bed, but she was transparent. She was only there for a moment, and then she disappeared again, before we had a chance to do anything. She looked sick. There's something very wrong here. Other than invisible friends disappearing and appearing." 

Alex didn't know what to say. How could things keep getting more bizarre? He felt as if all six of them had fallen down the rabbit hole, only there were no magic 'Drink Me' potions or Cheshire cats to lead them through this mess. Wordlessly, he looked from Liz to Max, and then over to Michael, who stood motionlessly staring at the floor, not seeming to hear the discussion going on around him. Ah, yes. _That_ Michael was definitely back. For a moment, Alex actually felt relieved, until he suddenly noticed how tightly the alien's fist was clenched, white-knuckled. 

Liz, following Alex's gaze, walked slowly to Michael and quietly said his name. She took his hand and gently uncurled his stiffened fingers, and found within them the small item he'd been clutching so tightly. It was a vial of cedar oil. Maria's favorite. Her heart suddenly ached for the taciturn alien, and she gently wrapped his fingers back around the small bottle. "Thank you for coming, Michael," she said, squeezing his hand. "It means a lot. And it will mean a lot to Maria." 

He looked up at the sound of that name, and, pulling his hand from hers, cradled the tiny vial in his hands. She stared, disbelieving, as the stony set of his face began to crack. His jaw clenched and his muscles convulsed, and for a moment she could have sworn his eyes actually began to lighten in color. His chin lifted, and he began to whisper, "Oh my god. Oh my god, Lizzy." His face crumpled as he stood there, overwrought. The hair rose on the back of Liz's neck. 

Alex flinched. Okay, they were going back to Hysterical Michael. Christ, he needed a scoreboard to keep track. He looked over at Isabel, who was numb with shock, then over to Max, who had a determined look on his face. 

"Michael," the dark-haired alien said, stepping towards his distraught friend. 

Said friend darted around Liz, placing her squarely in front of him. "Oh, no. No. N..no," he stammered, "You are so not going to do that again." He shivered apprehensively, but managed to hold his ground. Barely. Alex was suddenly reminded of a rat in a cage full of vipers. 

"God, Max, what did you do to him?" exclaimed Isabel. 

Max flushed, and admitted, "I connected with him and made him see what happened to Maria. He went...crazy, just like that." 

"You _made_ him? Max--" 

"I know, Iz, but he had to see. We need his help if we're going to figure out how to get Maria back." 

Liz looked sympathetically at Max before turning to the upset male behind her. Michael first, then Maria. "Michael, it's okay. I won't let him do it again. You'll be all right," she soothed as he fumbled with the cap of the cedar oil. "Let me help you with that, okay?" 

He nodded and stood passively as she opened the oil without removing it from his hand; then he took a shuddering breath of it and began to calm down. She watched in concern as the animation slowly faded from his face. Unemotional once more, he gazed, mildly perplexed, at the cedar oil in his hand, then looked at Liz. She took it from him and replaced the lid, then offered it back to him. He raised one eyebrow at her, but accepted the oil and tucked it securely in his jacket pocket before turning and staring fixedly at the wall across from him. 

"What on earth is going on?" asked Isabel, who couldn't tear her eyes away from Michael and his deranged behavior. She swallowed convulsively. "One minute he's totally impassive, and the next he's acting like...Like..." 

"Like Maria on speed?" Alex piped up. The others, except Michael, eyed him oddly. "Not that she's ever done...Aromatherapy oils, yes, but..." he stumbled before dropping the lame joke and moving on. "I don't know what's going on. He keeps switching back and forth from ice-cold, emotionless Michael to hysterical, panicky Michael." 

"And this all started when--" 

"When I forced the vision on him," Max said in remorse. 

"Hey, it was my idea," Alex put in stoutly. "Don't blame yourself. Let's just concentrate on what to do next." Isabel nodded. 

Liz spoke up. "I think we should ask Michael. Instead of just talking about him." Three pairs of eyes jumped to hers. The fourth remained focused on the wall across the room. "Michael?" she asked. "Do you know what just happened to you?" 

"What?" There was no curiosity in his voice. 

"You just got really upset. Do you know why?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

"You were kind of freaking out, and sniffing some of Maria's oil calmed you down." He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Michael, I promise you it's true. Believe me. Please believe me. We need your help. Maria is missing, please help us find her." 

His voice was low. "What do you want me to do?" 

"You've always been the best at seeing visions of things." Did she imagine an involuntary flinch before his face became passive once more? No, she couldn't worry about that now. "Will you see if you can get a vision of Maria? Where she is? Anything that will help us find her?" 

Michael looked at her for a moment, and then nodded once, curtly. "Where?" 

Isabel made a move to speak but cut off as Liz shook her head. Gazing steadily at Michael, she led him to the bed, saying, "This is where we saw her last, before she...before she went into your dream." 

He continued to watch her with dull eyes, as if to avoid looking at the bed; then an expression of resignation came over his face and he turned towards it. The four watchers held their breath as he slowly put out one hand to touch the comforter. For a moment, nothing happened, and then without warning Michael arched backwards, his face contorted in a rictus of pain, before falling heavily to the floor. As Liz began to move towards him, he curled up in a tight ball and wrapped his arms around his head. In a toneless voice, he began to whisper, _"get her out of my head get her out of my head get her out of my head..."_  
  


*****

In the harsh light of the round room, Michael sat upright as an agonizing pain cut sharply through his skull, making him gasp in surprise. His arm involuntarily tightened around Maria, but the feeling quickly dissipated and he forced himself to relax. Gently laying Maria down, he crawled a few steps away from her. What the hell had that been? 

He shook his head dizzily. He'd been sitting, anxiously watching her as she slept uneasily. Although he had kept trying, he hadn't been able to wake her, and so had been forced to sit and watch her suffer. He felt helpless. And now-- 

The pain attacked again, so intensely that he almost blacked out before it passed. Breathing heavily, he forced himself to his feet and took a few steps, but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped. And he felt the walls closing in as it struck for the third time, knocking him off his feet. Maria. He had to get to Maria. _Maria..._  
  
TBC...  
  



	10. Masques: Chapter 10

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 10_  


It took all four of them to pull the shell-shocked alien out of his fetal position next to the bed. Isabel thrust a pillow under his head as Liz reached for the throw at the foot of the bed and spread it gently over him. Max knelt beside him, intent on healing, but Michael reached out and grabbed his arm tightly before he could make a connection. "Max," he panted, barely able to speak. "She's...in there. I saw her. We've got...to get her...out." 

"We will, Michael. Just tell us where she is," Max said, gently pushing Michael back into a reclining position. Michael immediately tried to push himself back up. 

"She's in...the room. Round room." 

"The room from your dream?" Isabel asked sharply. 

Michael shook his head and managed to get out, "Not a dream." He forced himself to sit all the way up, swaying a little as he did so. 

She exclaimed, "That's right! In the dream you said you weren't in the dream..." Her voice trailed off and she smoothed her fingers over her hair in confusion. "We're back to that again. A round room that's in a dream but not in a dream. If it's not in a dream, then it has to exist somewhere real, right?" she said, trying to reason things out. "So we figure out where and go there and get Maria out." 

"Not as easy as it sounds. We still don't have a clue where this room is," Max pointed out. 

"It was in Michael's dream. At least access to it was; Maria got in that way." 

Alex said, "Well, then, shouldn't he know where it is?" He turned to Michael. "You were there, but you're here now. And Maria is there, instead of here. Hey, maybe you switched places, and she's there alone and you're here with us." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael open his mouth, and then close it without speaking. Alex decided to call him on it. "What, Michael?" he asked. 

Michael hesitated, then reluctantly said, "She's not alone." 

"You saw that in your vision? Well, who's with her then?" 

He paused before saying slowly, "She's with...Michael." 

Everyone froze. Max stepped protectively in front of the others and demanded, "Then who are you?" 

"I'm...Michael. I think." 

"This doesn't make any sense!" Alex interjected. "You say Maria's with Michael in the round room, but that you're Michael? Okay, _Michael_, how is that possible?" 

"I'm Michael. He's Michael. I'm here now. I'm there too." 

"How can you be in both places?" Liz burst out. 

"I don't know. I just know Maria is...there. With me. I saw it." He took in the skeptical faces around him and pushed himself to his feet, saying stiffly, "So read me. Find out for sure." Alex wasn't sure that was such a good idea. The last time someone had connected with Michael, he'd gone all Maria on them. And not in a good way. 

Isabel and Max looked at each other, eyes locked in a silent argument; then Max nodded emphatically and took a step towards Michael. Or maybe-Michael. He said tensely to the others, "Keep back," before reaching out and grabbing the arm of the alien--person? being?--in front of him. Closing his eyes, he carefully began to connect. 

Alex held his breath as he stood and watched, poised for action. Not that he had any idea of what to do if something went wrong, but maybe if he moved fast enough he could take out the maybe-Michael if need be. Yeah. That was likely. He let out a sigh of relief as Max relaxed. Turning back towards them, Max said, "It's definitely Michael. But he's different, too--more closed off than I've ever seen him." 

Michael looked around at the others and asked, "Satisfied?" When they nodded, he moved over to the door and leaned against it, adding in a businesslike tone, "Well, then, let's get on with it." 

Max nodded again, before musing, "Maria is with you. So where are the two of you?" 

"I don't know. I saw me there, but I can't tell what's going on." 

"If you're there, don't you know?" 

He shook his head. "I don't see it all the time; I only saw it in the vision." 

"The vision," Liz said suddenly. "You're all ignoring something. Michael," she continued gently, "After you saw the vision of Maria, you kept telling us to get her out of your head. What did you mean?" 

He considered for a moment and then replied matter-of-factly, "Just what I said." 

"Maria is in your _head_?" 

Isabel said under her breath, "Well, that would explain certain non-Michaelish behavior." Michael heard this, but chose to ignore it. 

A bizarre idea popped into Alex's brain. Hey, maybe those extra hours of studying with Liz were finally going to pay off. "It's like in math," he said. "You know, if A=B and B=C, then A=C. Maria is in the round room. Maria is in Michael's head. Therefore the round room is in Michael's head." 

"That's faulty logic. It doesn't work," protested Liz. 

So much for math. "Well, then, maybe it's that Michael's head is in the round room," he shot back. 

"Yes," said Michael suddenly. 

"Which? The room in your head or your head in the room?" 

"I think...both. It feels right." 

Alex began to think rapidly. "Wait, this is actually starting to make sense. What if Michael is in a round room that's inside his head?" 

"What?" asked Isabel, not following Alex's convoluted logic. 

"Well, he's obviously physically here. But what if he's not all there mentally? No offense," Alex said to the alien in question. "But what if part of you, the part that makes you _you_, as Maria said, is trapped within your mind?" 

"Can that even happen?" wondered Isabel. 

"Hey, I don't know. You say you're supposed to be super-advanced-type humans, but that's not to say that you can't have the same old mental hangups as the rest of us. Michael's just got a pesky little case of alien schizophrenia, which is great, because all we need now is an intergalactic shrink and we're in business." 

Liz spoke up. "It makes sense, in a bizarre way. But if Michael's in the round room _and_ here, why isn't Maria? Physically, she _has_ to be somewhere." 

Michael closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on what he'd seen in the vision. Then he grimaced and said tautly, "She's not. And it's killing her." 

Again, everyone froze. "What?" Liz asked in a whisper. 

"Being in there, but not existing in reality--she can't survive it. She'll just fade away and disappear." 

Liz clutched Max's shoulder convulsively. Maria was...dying? They had to do something. They had to help her. But how? How? She found herself voicing the thought in a panic. "What can we do? How do we help her?" 

Four minds, two human and two alien, raced in a search for an answer--any answer that could possibly help. While they were thus occupied, Michael made a calm, considered decision. Taking a step away from the door, he said resolutely, "In my vision, Maria was asleep. Or unconscious. Isabel is going to dreamwalk Maria. And she's taking me in with her." 

"But you're already there. How can you go in again? That would put two of you together in the same place. It's paradoxical," Liz protested. 

Alex muttered, "Not to mention frightening." 

"I got her into this, and I'll get her out. We're going," Michael said calmly. "Now."  
  


*****

Isabel took a deep breath as she lay down on the bed, trying to clear her mind enough to be able to pull off this dreamwalk. If Maria was really even asleep in the first place. If she didn't exist in reality, would she even be _able_ to dream? All Isabel could do was hope. And take Michael with her. She looked at him as he settled down on the floor beside her. Without discussing it, they'd both avoided Maria's side of the bed. Okay. Time to reach Maria. Reaching over the side, she grabbed Michael's hand and began the connection. 

A few moments later, she was in Maria's dream, Michael with her. Surprisingly, it was familiar, a vast expanse of sand under a bright, cloudless sky. "Wait a minute. This isn't Maria's dream, it's yours," she said. 

"It can't be mine. I'm not asleep," he reasoned. 

"But I recognize it. It's exactly the same. Look," she said, pointing, "there are Maria's footprints." Michael stared at then for a moment in contemplation. 

"Maybe she's just having the same dream as I did. So?" 

"So, the chances of two people having the _exact_ same dream...no way. It's practically impossible. There's got to be another explanation," she said. An idea struck her. "She's got this...connection to you." 

He raised one eyebrow quizzically, so she went on, "She can always feel when you're around. So maybe the connection is making her dream your dream. Or the fact that she's in your head is. I don't know! It doesn't really matter why, does it? What matters is that we find her!" 

"All right," he answered. "So I take it we follow the footprints?" 

Isabel nodded and began to move across the sand, Michael at her side. After a few paces, she looked back. She still didn't leave any footprints, but Michael...The sand practically flowed away from his feet, leaving deep indentations behind. Isabel shivered. 

"What is it?" asked Michael. 

This wasn't the time to get into it. She dismissed it, and continued to move along the footprint trail. "Nothing." 

They were silent as they marched along across the desert, eventually coming to the circle of prints Maria had left while trying to find a way through the invisible barrier. Isabel broke the silence. "This is it." She led him to the wall and placed her hand against it. 

"Michael?" she called loudly. 

"You don't have to shout. I'm right next to you." 

"Not you, you idiot. The other Michael." 

"Oh." 

"Michael," she called again. "Are you in there?" 

She heard a faint voice. "Isabel?" 

The Michael next to her said in a low voice, "That's not me. It doesn't sound a thing like me." 

"Yes, it does. It sounds _exactly_ like you," she whispered, before resuming her contact with the Michael inside. "Michael, is Maria in there?" 

"Yeah, but something's wrong with her. I can't wake her up," came the frantic voice from inside, louder now. "I don't know what's wrong, and I can't connect with her to find out--I'd probably blow her up." 

"It's okay, we'll get her out. We'll get both of you out," Isabel called. 

"We? Who's out there with you?" was the quick response. "Max? You have to get in here and see if you can heal her. I can't. My powers keep backfiring on me." 

"It's not Max," said Isabel, looking at the Michael next to her. He nodded. "It's you." 

"What? What the hell are you talking about, Izzy?" 

"Just believe me when I say you are out here." There was silence from inside the barrier. 

Michael moved closer to the barrier, next to Isabel. "Maybe I can reach him," he said. Placing both hands on the smooth surface, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on the wall. On Maria inside the wall. On himself next to Maria inside the wall. Isabel gasped as a glow of light began to glimmer underneath his hands and quickly spread across the surface. She couldn't see the enclosure, but she could see the bluish-tinged light emanating from it. It covered the wall and gleamed so brightly she had to look away. "What's going on?" she asked the intensely concentrating Michael, who didn't answer but instead remained focused on the wall in front of him. On Maria. On himself.  
  


*****

Michael placed Maria's hand gently back at her side and approached the curved metal wall of his prison. "What? What the hell are you talking about, Izzy?" he called. When her response came, he leaned against the wall in disbelief. He was out there? How could he be in two places at once? But he already had been, according to Maria. He'd been in Roswell making her life miserable, like always, at the same time that he _knew_ he'd been here. Moving his hands up the metal, he wearily rested his forehead against them and tried to understand. 

Who'd have thought that his life would get even more screwed up? Well, it was only fair. He'd messed up everyone else's, ruined Maria's, and then got her stuck here. Now she was sick, and he couldn't wake her up, and then, as if one fuckup wasn't enough to have around, now there were two of him? How many more lives could he destroy now? Line up, folks--two assholes, no waiting. 

He came out of his abstraction to notice that the metal surface of the wall he was leaning against was shifting, changing beneath his fingers. For the second time that evening, it began to roughen and grow warmer. He looked up and saw the already polished metal begin to shine even more brightly, until he almost had to shield his eyes from the brilliance. Then the light began to fade, and through the now transparent barrier he could see... 

Himself. 

Himself, dressed in jeans and a pullover shirt, his denim jacket topping it off. Michael stared for a moment at his mirror image before starting at the sound of Isabel's voice. 

"Michael," she said in relief, her voice full of hope and anxiety at the same time, "I can see you. Where's Maria?" 

He gestured behind him and pleaded, "You've got to get her out of here. She's unconscious and I can't wake her up." 

"It's a good thing you can't," Isabel said firmly. "We're dreamwalking her, and if she wakes up, we might lose her forever. Michael, the two of you are trapped inside your mind. You aren't physically there." 

"No," he argued, shaking his head in disbelief. "We're here. I can feel the walls, I can feel Maria. This exists. It's a real place." 

"No, it's not," claimed his look-alike. "None of it is real, outside of your head. You trapped yourself in there, and now you can't get out." Michael stared at him. Was this who Maria had seen, in Roswell? Was it really him? Did he really seem so...cold? So remote? This Michael didn't just have a stone wall. He _was_ one. But, after all, isn't that what he wanted, what he needed to keep her safe? Maybe this was how it needed to be. 

"Michael," Isabel said, "Maria's in there with you, isn't she? Well, when she joined you, she disappeared from reality. She doesn't exist right now outside your head." 

"What?" he shouted, panicked. "Of course she exists! She has to. She's...she's _Maria_." Was everything he had put himself--and her--through all in vain? It was one thing to live without Maria to save her life. But to live without her because she didn't exist...He swallowed, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. No. That wasn't acceptable. He had to get her out, keep her safe. 

"How do we get her out?" he shouted through the barrier. 

"How did Maria get through?" demanded Isabel. "Or her shoe, for that matter?" 

"I don't know. She was just there all of a sudden." 

"Try using your powers to knock a hole in the wall," Isabel dictated. 

"Don't you think I tried that already?" he shouted, yanking up what remained of his shirtsleeve. "See what happens?" He got bitter satisfaction at the white look on her face as she took in the bruised and seared flesh. 

The other Michael, the one across the barrier from him, didn't so much as blink, the cold bastard. He did however, begin to speak. "Try it again. Put your hands on the wall and concentrate on moving the molecules in it to create an opening. I'll do the same from this side. Together we may be able to break through it." 

"Are you fucking insane? The last time, I was the only one in here. Do you think I would do something that might backfire and hurt Maria?" If this really was him, how could he be so careless? Oh. Maybe that wasn't such an unfamiliar trait. But to take a chance with Maria...No way. 

Isabel called again, exasperated. "It's not like we have a giant can opener out here with us, Michael. God, what do you--" She stopped as a sudden breeze blew out of nowhere, tugging at her clothing and hair before it faded away. "What was that?" she asked the alien beside her. 

He looked around cautiously. "I don't know." 

The breeze came again, stronger this time, picking up the desert floor and tossing it gently around. With it came a slow darkening of the bright sky, although there were no clouds in sight. Isabel looked around her to see Maria's footprints and the marks in the sand left by Michael's passage begin to disappear as the blowing sand washed over them. "Oh god," she whispered, then shouted through the barrier. "Michael! Check on Maria!" 

He rushed to do so, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste. She was once again twitching on the floor, her sleep troubled. And then for a moment it seemed as if she would startle herself out of her own sleep. Remembering Isabel's words, he took her hand and began to stroke it, whispering harshly, "Shhh. It's okay, Maria. Don't wake up. It's okay." He touched her cheek, trying not to let his inner panic communicate itself to her unconscious mind. 

From the outside, his own voice pulled his attention away from her. "We're running out of time. We need to break through. Now." 

Torn, he remained kneeling by Maria's side. How could he risk her getting hurt from his powers? But how could he risk not getting her out, and having her die? Shit. There wasn't really a choice. He reached over and took her face gently between his hands, staring at is as if to commit it to memory. Even though her image was already burned into his mind. Huh, maybe even literally, considering the events of the evening. He stroked her cheek one last time before leaning over and pressing his lips against hers in an uncharacteristically tender kiss. With his eyes closed as if to hold in her image for one last moment, he pushed himself to his feet and away from her, opening them to lock gazes through the clear wall with his mirror image. 

"Okay, let's do it. Now." Planting his hands firmly against the strangely rough surface, he closed his eyes in concentration. Okay. Don't go blowing up or anything now, not like last time. Well, maybe brute force wasn't the answer. Concentrating, he tried to picture small bits of clear glass, breaking down into even smaller bits, into tiny grains, specks, molecules of nothing, and mentally commanded them to move. Go there. Out of the way. Goddammit, move! And in his frenzied imagination they actually began to obey him. They shifted away, flowing faster and faster in response to his silent commands. He was actually doing it. He had control over this. He... 

...felt a stranger's hands against his. 

Jerking his eyelids open, he found himself staring once more into his look-alike's eyes. Into _his_ eyes. They stood, palm against palm on opposite sides of a window-like opening in the invisible wall. Wait--how could he see a window in an invisible wall? Never mind, it wasn't important. What was important was that he knew it was there. A window to Maria's safety. A window to freedom. He gave a tiny quarter-smile, thinking of how many times he'd used this particular means of entry. Yeah, he could deal with windows. 

"Hurry!" he heard Isabel shout through the growing sandstorm. He rushed back to Maria's side and carefully lifted her into his arms before carrying her quickly across the small space to the opening where Michael--the other Michael--stood. "Take her!" he commanded, holding her up to the opening in the wall. The other-him nodded and reached through the window for her, not hesitating, even when she began to moan and toss in their arms. Michael's hands tightened on her one last time before he drew them away from her, watching as the other-him clutched her to his chest and backed a few steps away from the wall. 

"Now you!" shouted Isabel, rushing over to the opening. He nodded and put his hands on either side of the opening to pull himself through. Time to go.  
  


*****

Maria woke with a sudden jerk and lay still for a moment, breathing heavily. Where was she? Oh yeah, she thought, smiling. She was with Michael. _Her_ Michael. The prickly, stubborn, infuriating, gorgeous, _alive_ Michael. She smiled one more time and snuggled deeper into his arms, only to realize suddenly that she wasn't leaning up against the hard muscles of his chest. The surface against her back was far too soft. And cushiony. Michael was _never_ that yielding. 

Opening her eyes, she found herself back where it had all started, hours ago. Lying on the bed in Isabel's room. Liz was hovering over her, tears in her eyes. "You're back, Maria!" her friend whispered, and gave her a blinding smile. Maria looked further around the room, to see Max holding tightly to Liz's shoulder and a grinning Alex standing at the foot of the bed. Turning her head, she found Isabel, a warm smile lighting her face, sitting up on the bed next to her. But where was--? 

_There_ he was, on his feet on the other side of Isabel. In a bound Maria was up off the bed and flying towards him. "Michael!" she cried in joy, throwing her arms around his neck and clutching him tightly, her cheek pressed to his chest. "It's you! You made it out of there!" When he made no movement, she faltered, "Michael? You did, didn't you?" and raised her head. 

He looked her straight in the eye, and she slowly removed her arms from around him. He finally spoke, very calmly, very coolly. "No. I didn't. Michael is still in there." Leaving her standing there, stricken, he walked out, quietly shutting Isabel's door behind him.  
  
TBC...  
  



	11. Masques: Chapter 11

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 11_  


Maria let out the breath she had been holding and looked around at the five friends gathered around her. Her mind turned over and over with what they'd told her, trying to make sense of it. "So," she said slowly wanting to make sure she had all the facts straight, "Michael was just about to climb through, and I woke up?" Isabel nodded. "Then it's my fault he didn't get out. If I would've stayed asleep for just one more minute, he'd have had time to get out, and then he would've been himself again." 

"You can't know that, 'Ria," said Liz. "We're just guessing." 

"But I--" 

"I'm not so sure it was you anyway," said Isabel, thinking back over the events of the night. "Just before you woke up, Michael started to climb out, but then he stopped. He hesitated for just a minute. Maybe he...maybe he kept himself inside." 

"But why?" the blonde burst out frantically. 

"Why did he get himself stuck in a prison in his mind in the first place?" asked Alex. "We don't know what's been going through his head. No one does, except Michael." 

Maria bit her lip and stared at the floor. 

"At least we know what the problem is," pointed out Max, "even if we don't know why." 

"And Michael did help get you out. Both Michaels did," added Isabel. 

Maria shivered. If they hadn't, she could have died tonight. She could have ceased to exist. Gone kaput. Kicked the proverbial bucket. At this very moment she could be serving alien-themed burgers in some celestial diner. Laughter began to well up within her, finally bursting out in a series of chuckles and then a prolonged giggle fit. "Maria? Are you all right?" asked Liz worriedly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?" 

Maria tried to control her laughter long enough to get the words out. "It's Michael," she said between chortles. "I always knew his mind was a dangerous place. I just didn't know I meant it literally." Tears of laughter began to run down her face as they all stood there, stunned. Then Liz wrapped her arms around her hysterical friend, and the gusts of laughter turned into sobs. 

"Shhh. It's okay. Everything will be okay," she soothed. 

"It is not okay!" cried Maria, sitting up and wiping the tears from her cheeks. "I had him back. I was with him, and he was _my_ Michael, and things were almost right again. Back to the way they should be. And then he had to go and hesitate, when he had a chance. He could've gotten out, but no, not Michael Guerin," she barked, warming in her anger. "No, he had to wait one fraction of a moment too long, like he always does, and guess who's left to pick up the pieces? Us, that's who," she continued, practically shouting. "So what are we waiting for? I said I was going to get him out, and darn it, that is just what I'm gonna do!" 

Alex was watching with a grin as his friend regained her spark and fervor. "You know," he commented, "These sudden mood swings are much less scary on you than they were on Michael." 

"On Michael?" she asked. 

"Yeah," he explained. "Once he'd gotten the flash of you disappearing from Max, he started acting really strangely. Like he was channeling you or something." 

"That's not so strange, now that we know Maria was trapped in his mind," said Max. "But he certainly was acting...unlike himself." 

Liz added, "He actually called me 'Lizzy'. And he kept sniffing that bottle of cedar oil you gave him." 

"What? I never gave him any cedar oil," protested Maria. 

Alex's eyes met Liz's in an understanding glance. "He has some, 'Ria. He keeps it in his jacket pocket." 

"Ohhhh," she breathed, her eyes softening just a little. 

Alex smiled warmly at her before saying, "I hate to break this up, but it's almost 7:00. If I'm gonna sneak back in before my parents are up, I'd better get going." Heading towards the window, he stopped as Isabel put her hand on his arm. 

"Alex," she said softly. "Thank you. For everything." 

He smiled at her. "Any time, Isabel. Any time." He covered her hand for one quick moment with his own, and then climbed through the window and was gone. 

Isabel watched him disappear around the corner of the house before turning back to the room and asking, "So what do we do now?" 

"Actually, what I think we need most right now is some sleep," her brother told her. "It's been a long night." 

"That sounds really good," said Liz. 

"Ummm, I don't think I could sleep right now," said Maria. "I mean, too much is going on in my head, you know? I just want to think through some stuff. And I did get an hour or two of sleep, when I was with Michael. So if you don't mind, I think I'll head on home." 

"Okay. We can regroup later today and figure out what to do next," suggested Isabel. 

"I'll either be at home or the Crashdown. I'm on the four-to-close shift tonight," said Maria. 

"I'm on then, too," Liz added. 

"We'll catch up to you there and make some plans," decided Max. 

Gathering up her things, Maria looked at the three of them before heading out. They all looked tired, but she could see the hope in their eyes. She knew her own were probably glowing just as brightly.  
  


*****

Juggling her possessions, Maria rooted around in her bag for her house key, only to have the door swing open in front of her. "I heard the car pull up," said her mother. "Is everything all right?" 

"Yeah, it's fine, Mom. I hope I didn't wake you up," Maria said, putting her things on the kitchen counter. 

"No, I was just pouring myself a cup of coffee," Amy replied. "You're home awfully early. You sure you're okay?" Maria turned and looked for a moment at her mother before throwing her arms around the startled woman. "Maria?" she asked, enfolding her daughter in her arms. 

"Yeah?" came the muffled reply. 

"What is it, honey?" 

"Nothing, Mom. I just...It's nothing." 

"Did you have a fight with your friends? Is that why you're home so early?" 

Maria looked up. "Fight with Liz and Isabel? No way. I just...I couldn't sleep, so I came home." 

Her mother looked at her for a moment, but decided not to press. "Okay. Want some breakfast?" 

"No thanks. I think I'll just head to my room. Maybe study my script for a while." 

"Okay," Amy answered, watching as she picked her things up off the counter. "So did you have fun last night? I'll bet you stayed up all night talking about boys." 

Maria looked at her for a moment, a half smile coming to her lips. After all, in a way, it was true. Not about boys, but about boy. One in particular. Raising her eyebrows, she said with a little laugh, "Mom, you have no idea."  
  


*****

The bell rang, and Maria trotted over to the pass-through to pick up the order. Carrying it over to table five, she forced a smile on her face and set the plates in front of the elderly couple, the last customers of the evening. "There you go, one Galaxy Melt and one Space Alien Special, hold the onion. Can I get you anything else?" They shook their heads, and she headed back through the nearly empty restaurant, over to the counter where Liz was wiping off the milkshake machine. "Will this day never end?" Maria complained. "I am totally beat." 

"I know what you mean," her friend responded, "and I got more sleep than you did this morning. Plus a nap at home this afternoon." 

"I tried, I just couldn't sleep, you know? Every time I lay down, things kept racing through my head. I couldn't distract myself. I even tried doing homework." 

"No!" Liz gasped melodramatically. "Not homework!" 

Maria rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, Miss 'I Have My Homework Done By Friday Night So I Can Have The Weekend Free For More Studying', it's not _that_ unheard of." Liz gave her a cheeky grin, and she went on, "So I didn't wait 'til Sunday afternoon this time. No big deal." 

A bell rang as the front door opened. Liz and Maria turned to see Max, Isabel and Alex enter, chatting intently. They headed over to their usual booth in the corner. Giving a quick glance over the restaurant to make sure no one needed anything, the two girls headed over to join them. 

"Honestly," they overheard Isabel saying, "I think Maria's the key." 

"Key to what?" Maria asked, pulling up a chair and sitting as Liz slid into the booth next to Alex. 

"To getting through to Michael. You're the one who can sense him. You were the one who found him in his dream. You were the only reason he helped us at all tonight," the tall blonde explained. 

"Why can't we just dreamwalk him again, and pull him out?" asked Maria in a reasonable tone. 

"Because it's too dangerous," said Max. "We almost lost you the last time." 

"I'm willing to risk it." 

"Well, we aren't willing to risk you," Max told her firmly. "Not unless we can come up with a foolproof plan. We need to know more than we do." 

"Besides," said Liz quietly, "If Michael--the real Michael--helped once, maybe he'll help us again, to rescue him. I mean, to rescue Michael--the other Michael. Oh, this is confusing," she commented shaking her head. 

"Maybe we need codenames," Alex quipped. "You know, like Michael One and Michael Two, or Reality Michael and Mental Michael. Or Peter Parker and Spiderman." He looked around at the faces of his friends and said, "What? There's nothing wrong with the classics." 

"How about we fix things instead, and then we won't need two names. We'll just need 'Michael'. Because there's only one," Maria said. "So if I'm supposedly 'the key', what am I supposed to do?" 

Max said, "The first thing we need is more information, so we can come up with a better plan of action. We need to talk to Michael again." 

"So basically, we're siccing you on him, DeLuca," said Alex with a smile. 

"Fantastic. First I'm a bloodhound, and now I'm a pit bull?" she said in a joking tone. 

"Yep. Pretty much. Latch onto him and don't let go until he gives up," he shot back, playing along. 

She grinned at him and said, "Now _that_ I can do. He won't know what hit him." 

She looked around and noticed that the elderly couple was standing by the register, ready to go. "Hold on a sec," she said to the gang before heading over to them. "How was everything?" she asked, taking the money the man handed her and making change. They assured her it was fine, and she gave them a genuine smile before following them to the door, locking it and turning the sign over to read 'closed'. She headed back towards her friends, only to find a large, gaily wrapped package sitting on the end of the table in front of her chair. 

"What's this?" she asked suspiciously. 

She could see the amusement in Isabel's brown eyes as the girl told her, "Open it and find out." 

Impatiently tearing the paper from the package, Maria opened the large box and burst into laughter. 

"What is it?" asked Alex curiously. 

Her eyes danced as they met Isabel's. "Private joke," she told Alex, pulling out the case of bottled water and box of alien-shaped bendy straws. She quickly passed bottles of water and straws around to everyone and proposed a toast. "To dreamwalking." 

Isabel countered her. "To friendship." 

Maria looked warmly at the people around her, and her voice rang out clear and true as she lifted her bottled water high. "To fixing things." Everyone drank.  
  
TBC...  
  



	12. Masques: Chapter 12

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 12_  


Maria pulled up at the Lift-Off gas station and parked by the side, away from the pump. Nervously she drummed her fingers on the steering wheel for a moment before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes in concentration. Isabel had said Michael would probably be working that afternoon. Yep. There it was, that familiar little tingle. He was here. 

Looking in the rearview mirror, Maria applied one last coat of berry-flavored lip gloss. It wasn't for him. She just wanted to go in there feeling confident, knowing she looked her best. She caught her own eye in the mirror. Yeah. Who did she think she was fooling? 

Okay. All she needed was to drum up some of the resolve she'd had last night at the Crashdown. It had all seemed so simple then--go to Michael and make him talk to her. Piece of cake. Now it didn't seem that easy. But she had to get through to him, make him talk. She geared herself up, silently commanding herself to take no prisoners, before getting out of the Jetta and heading towards the station building. 

Michael was inside, sweeping the small room. He looked up as she entered. "Hey, Michael," she ventured. 

He blinked a moment before replying noncommittally, "Hey." He continued to sweep. 

Okay. At least he was talking. One word counted, right? "I need to talk to you." 

"I'm working." 

She looked around. "Michael, there's nobody else here." 

"So?" 

"So you have two choices. Either agree to talk to me as soon as you get off work, or talk to me now. One or the other, Michael. Which is it going to be?" 

He looked at her consideringly, taking in the look of resolve on her face. "Fine. After work. I get off in forty minutes." 

"Fine." 

"I'll meet you--" 

"Oh no, buddy. I'm waiting for you outside. It's not that I don't trust you or anything," she said. Yeah, sure. "I just don't have a better way to spend my Sunday afternoon." Come on, Michael, react. Once he would've jumped right onto that opening with a sarcastic comment. She'd left herself wide open for one on purpose. But he just nodded and continued sweeping. 

"I'll be outside at my car. Come out when you're done and I'll drive you home." 

Michael hesitated for a moment, and then grudgingly assented. "Fine." 

She gave him a suspicious look and then walked out to her car. Leaving the door open, she sat sideways in the driver's seat, enjoying the slight breeze and watching the sparse traffic go by on the highway. Well, she'd made it through that much without backing down. Now if she could only make it through the rest... 

Lost in thought, she jerked upright when a shadow fell across her. She looked up into Michael's eyes, searching for a spark of the Michael she knew. It wasn't there. So she was surprised when he handed her one of the two bottles he was holding. She looked down at it. It was Arizona Raspberry Iced Tea, her favorite. "Thanks," she said in astonishment. He nodded, then moved around to the passenger side and got in. 

Maria looked at him out of the corner of her eye before starting the Jetta and pulling out of the station. "Your place?" she asked. 

"Fine." 

They were both silent on the drive over to his apartment, silent as she parked and they walked toward the building, and silent as they climbed the stairs. Michael used his key to unlock the door and motioned for her to precede him into the apartment. 

Clutching her purse and the iced tea, Maria took a few steps in and looked around, as she hadn't been able to bring herself to the last time she'd been there. The room was painfully neat, and had an unused air about it. Like it wasn't lived in. She heard the door close behind her, and turned to face him as he moved to the counter and leaned against it. Setting down his bottle of Cherry Coke, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked coolly at her. He didn't speak. 

Okay. Here she went. "They told me what you did," she said. "You saved my life. Thank you." 

He shrugged and said nothing. 

Hmmm. _That_ went over well. But she had needed to say it, as much for her as for him. "Well, anyway," she went on, "I don't really understand everything that's going on, and I need to. I need you to tell me." She paused and then ventured, "How are you?" 

"Fine." 

"Michael, part of you is locked away in your own mind, trapped. How can you possibly be fine?" she retorted, then took a calming breath. "Sorry. As usual, I keep finding myself losing my temper around you." 

"I remember," he said matter-of-factly. 

"And I don't want to do that now. I want to understand. I _need_ to understand." 

He hesitated for a moment before saying guardedly, "What do you want to know?" 

"That's it? What do I want to know? And you'll tell me?" she asked in surprise. Surely it couldn't be this easy. 

It wasn't. "No promises." 

She glared at him for a moment before sighing and saying, "Can I at least sit down?" 

"Go ahead," he said, gesturing towards the couch. He remained where he was, leaning on the counter. 

Sitting, she complained, "I'm going to get a crick in my neck if I have to look up at you. You're too tall." He didn't move. "Sit," she commanded. 

He raised one eyebrow, but crossed and sat on the other end of the couch, carefully maintaining the distance between them. 

"So what's going on with you, Michael?" she asked. Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, he studied his hands and didn't answer. She began to get annoyed. "Look, I didn't come over here for the view, you know. You may as well talk to me, because if you don't, I will be on your back so fast you won't know what hit you. Wherever you go, I'll be there. You won't be able to call your life your own. I will hound you until you give up, and I promise you I'll give new meaning to the term 'stalker'! So come on, Michael, give." 

"I ask again, what do you want to know?" he said pointedly. 

Oh. He _had_ asked that. Where to start? There was so much to ask about; what was the most important? As Maria tried to organize her thoughts into a logical order, her mouth took over and she heard herself blurting, "Why do you have cedar oil in your jacket pocket?" Oh god. Had she really asked that? She sneaked a peek over at him and saw to her amusement that the cool, collected Michael looked a little uncomfortable. He actually had an expression on his face. Hmmm. Maybe this line of questioning wasn't so far off track after all. "Why?" she prodded. 

He didn't look at her, instead fingering one of his rings as he answered, "I don't know." 

"Michael," she said warningly. 

He began to look a little more upset. "I don't know! I just have it, okay?" She was about to press him further when suddenly his jaw clenched. Closing his eyes, he held perfectly still for a moment, then opened them and said calmly, "I've had it for a while. Maybe you left it here." 

"I did not leave it here!" she retorted. He continued to watch her coolly and she backed down. "Okay, never mind that. Let's get to the main point. Part of you is stuck inside your own mind. We've got that. So when and how exactly did it happen?" 

His eyes moved unseeingly about the room as he thought. "Maybe three or four weeks ago, I guess. But I'm not sure how." 

Three or four weeks. That tallied with what Michael had told her in the round room, that he'd been there since September. But this Michael didn't know how it happened? She questioned doubtfully, "Well, when did you notice the change?" 

"I didn't. Not until Friday night." 

Unbelievable. "You've only been half a person and you didn't even notice? I mean, the rest of us all noticed something was off with you--at least those of us who could get anywhere _near_ you did. Why didn't you?" 

"It's not like I woke up one morning and was missing a leg," he said dryly. 

She rolled her eyes in frustration. "You're not helping here." 

"I wasn't aware that I had agreed to help." 

She pushed nearer to him on the couch and stuck a finger in his face. "Do I need to bring out the stalking threat again?" she growled, leaning towards him, her face inches from his. "'Cause I'm not kidding about it. I will make your life a living hell if I have to." 

She saw his eyes shift to her lips and darken for a moment, and he tensed, his brow furrowed, before once again shutting his eyes and relaxing. Weird. That was the second time it had happened in less than five minutes. 

"Okay, what's going on here?" she demanded. "You keep acting like you've actually _got_ a personality, and then, BANG! You get all cold again. You're Mr. Snowmiser. What are you repressing?" 

"Repressing?" 

"That's what I said, so answer the question, pal." 

Michael stood and moved over to the window, where he stood looking out onto the empty street. Keeping his back turned, he said, "Ever since Friday...since Isabel and I dreamwalked you, I can sense him." 

"Him? You mean the other part of you?" 

He nodded. 

"Well, it's only fair, I guess. I mean, I can sense you, so it's only natural that you can sense yourself." She stopped, suddenly embarrassed. "Umm, about that whole sensing you thing, I..." 

"I know," he said, turning to face her. "Isabel told me." 

"Well, I told you, too, but it wasn't you. I mean, it was the other part of you," she fumbled. "You know?" 

"Yeah. She told me you can feel when he's around," he answered. 

"Oh. Yeah, I can tell when you're around. But up close, I know you're not the whole you." 

Michael turned to the window once more before saying quietly, "He doesn't like it. 

"I know," she responded absently, then blurted, "Wait, what do you mean, 'he'? Why do you keep saying that? He is you." 

"He is, but he's not. He's separate." 

"Well, let him join back up already! Why are you doing this to yourself?" she exploded, rising to her feet. 

"I'm not." 

"So do something about it! Be a whole person again. Join. Become one. Embrace your inner alien. Whatever, just fix it!" she shouted, close to frustrated tears. 

He was silent for a while before answering, "I'm not sure I can. I didn't even know anything was wrong until Max and Alex came over Friday night. I didn't know part of me was...missing." 

"But you know it now, right?" she pressed. 

He nodded. "I can feel him. I can tell what he's feeling. He's there in the back of my brain. It feels...wrong." 

"So let's do something about it." 

He ran his fingers distractedly through his tousled hair. "There's a problem." 

"What?" 

"He doesn't want it." 

She grabbed his arm and swung him around to face her. "_What_?" 

"He doesn't want to leave the room," he explained patiently. 

"But he tried to," she protested. "He hurt himself trying to use his powers to break through. And Isabel says that after you helped me, he tried to climb out." 

"He started to. Then he stopped." 

"How do you know all this? Why do you know it now, and you didn't before?" 

He glanced uneasily around the room. "I think it's because of the hole we put in the wall around him. It's still there. He keeps trying to shore it up, but he can't," Michael answered slowly. "And I can tell what he's thinking." 

She wrinkled her forehead in concentration. "Do you think he can feel you?" 

"I don't know," he admitted. 

"Well, try and communicate with him, would you? Tell him I said to get over whatever mental problems he has given himself and get his butt back here." 

"It's not that easy." 

"I know that, all right? But I need him. I need you. I need you to be Michael again." He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. "Even if you're not with me, I still need to know that you're you, not some Michael-shaped pod person. Max and Isabel need you back. _You_ need you back." 

He responded in a low voice, "I know I do. But he's...he's not being cooperative." 

She burst into laughter. "And that surprises you why? He's _you_, Spaceboy." 

She felt suddenly happy. And hopeful. He wanted to be himself again. Maybe things would work out. Her rising spirits weren't even dashed as he said, "Look, I'm...not really up for any more of this right now. Have I unburdened myself enough for one day?" 

"Yeah, sure," she smiled, but added, "I'm going to tell everyone what you told me. They'll probably want to talk to you about it, too, okay?" 

He grimaced slightly, and she went on, "Look, if you're going to get yourself back, you're going to need our help. We will give you all the space you need. Just don't completely shut us out, all right?" 

He nodded, and she looked up at him with a smile. "We will do this. I promise. You'll be all right." Giving in to an impulse, she stepped closer. "This is for me, okay? I need it," she said, and put her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He stood perfectly still and allowed her to take comfort from holding him. When she stepped away, there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling brightly. "Just hang in there, okay, Michael?" And gathering up her purse--and the bottle of iced tea he'd given her--she bolted from the apartment.  
  
TBC...  
  



	13. Masques: Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13  


Holding tightly to her bookbag, Maria raced down the hall. Of all days to oversleep! But she'd had very little sleep on Friday night, what with the whole dreamwalking thing, and on Saturday her nerves had kept her awake for much of the night. After her talk with Michael on Sunday, she'd headed home, only to fall soundly asleep on her bed, script in hand. She'd slept deeply for twelve hours, only rousing as her alarm went off--for the third time. Groggily, she shook her head. Darn those snooze alarms anyway. 

She practically ran through the empty halls, not even pausing at her locker on her way to Mrs. Gideon's English class. If she didn't stop, she'd only be a few minutes late... 

"Nice of you to join us, Ms. DeLuca," the teacher said dryly as Maria stepped inside the room, all eyes on her. Well, most eyes, anyway. One pair of brown eyes remained fixed on the desk in front of him. Uh-oh. Was that Michael back again? Was everything they'd talked about yesterday a big waste? Or a dream? What-- 

She realized that Mrs. Gideon was still standing at the blackboard, looking at her. "Sorry," she muttered, and headed for her desk, only to trip on someone's backpack. Catching herself before she could fall, she sank slowly into her seat, red-faced, trying to ignore the muffled snickers around her. 

"As we were discussing..." Mrs. Gideon went on, going back to her lesson plan. Maria pulled out her notebook and a green gel pen and pretended to take notes, in reality not paying any attention whatsoever. What a way to start the week off. She hated Mondays. The only thing that could make this morning worse would be a... 

"Pop quiz," she heard. Oh no. She sighed as the quiz papers were passed out, but picked up her pen and dutifully tried to remember what she'd read of Hamlet on Saturday. It was more than she'd expected. Evidently dreamwalking-and-Michael-induced insomnia was good for her study habits, because she actually knew most of the answers. Maybe this day was looking up. 

She gave a little half-smile as the bell rang and the quizzes were collected. Shoving her notebook and pen back into her bag, she turned to see... 

...Michael. He was there in class, actually looking at her, in front of God and everyone. He wasn't bolting out of the room to avoid her, like he'd done since the start of the school year. She froze, the half smile pasted on her lips, until he nodded. Then she began to get the feeling back in her limbs and was able to move once more. She flashed him a cheeky grin before dashing out the classroom door. 

She hadn't imagined it after all. He wasn't himself yet, but he was trying. Just catching her glance--voluntarily, yet--was a start. Swinging her bag over her shoulder, she bounced happily on her way to her locker. Liz was there, waiting. 

"Where were you this morning?" the dark-haired girl demanded. "I expected to get a call from you yesterday, or at least see you before class." 

"I know, I know," Maria answered. "I overslept." 

Her friend studied her. "You look pretty chipper, 'Ria. How did it go?" 

"How did what go?" Maria responded innocently. 

"You know, the talk with Michael. Did he listen to you? What ha--" 

Liz's voice cut off abruptly as she caught sight of a tall, spiky brown head moving through the crowd in the hall around them. She stared as Michael saw her and nodded, coolly saying, "Hey," before continuing down the hall. 

Maria watched in amusement as Liz turned from the retreating alien towards her, a stunned look in her eyes. She tried to hold it in, but a smile burst its way across her lips. "Oh, do you have a lot to tell me," Liz admonished, seeing the happy glint in her eyes. 

"I know, chica," Maria answered, her eyes dancing. 

"So is everything--" 

"No," Maria interrupted. "He's still doing the road show of Jeckyll & Hyde. I'll tell you all about it at lunch, okay? I've already been late to one class today." 

"Sure," Liz said dubiously. "But you're not getting out of it any longer than that." 

Maria nodded, and then finished dialing her locker combination. She swung the door open, intending to stash her copy of Hamlet. Instead, she paused and curiously eyed the folded paper that was lying on top of her French textbook. 

"Okay, Liz, who's been slipping notes into my locker?" she asked. 

"I don't know. It wasn't me." 

"Well, there's one way to find out," said Maria cheerfully. She unfolded the sheet of notebook paper and stood staring at it blankly. 

"What?" teased Liz. "Somebody leaving you love letters?" 

Maria gave a shrug, and said, "Nope. It's nothing. See you at lunch?" 

Smiling, Liz nodded and headed down the hall. Maria looked once more at the paper before refolding it carefully and shoving it into her bookbag. Her mind elsewhere, she headed to her next class.  
  


*****

Max sat back on the bench and eyed Maria thoughtfully. "So, the hole in the invisible barrier is still there," he mused. 

Maria nodded, ignoring the uneaten lunch on the table in front of her. "So it would be easy to dreamwalk him and pull him out. No wall to break down this time," she pleaded. "I want Michael back. You want Michael back. Even Michael wants Michael back. So let's just go in and get him out already!" 

"We still don't know why you got trapped there in the first place," pointed out Liz. "I don't think we should risk it again until we know more." 

"Liz is right," Max said. "It's too dangerous." 

Maria threw her hands up in protest. "I can't believe you! We are so close to having him back, and you're still letting some trifling notion of possible danger stand in our way? I want Michael back! Now!" she cried. 

Isabel spoke up. "Maria, can I talk to you for a minute?" 

"Go right ahead. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of everyone," Maria insisted stubbornly. 

Isabel hesitated and said, "We all want Michael to be himself again. But do you think that maybe you're letting your feelings get in the way of your common sense? I mean, just because he's back won't mean that he'll be with you." She flushed. "I'm not saying that because I...It's not...Look, I don't go along with the whole destined mate idea. Michael is my brother. I just don't want you to get your expectations up. I don't want you to get...hurt," she finished quietly. Alex met her eyes and smiled. The others looked down at the table, not wanting to cause Maria any more distress. 

Maria looked calmly at the taller girl and spoke. "Isabel, it's not that. Yes, he's hurt me in the past, and knowing Michael, he'll probably hurt me again in the future. But none of that's important right now. My friend--our friend--has a problem. We have to help. It's that simple." She locked gazes with Isabel and added, "Whatever Michael does or doesn't do after that is up to him. I can't force him to feel what he doesn't feel. I know that. But I won't give up what I feel, either. Not for anything." 

"I'm not asking you to, Maria. I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all." 

Maria smiled. "I know. Thank you." For a moment she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of this burgeoning friendship, and then she swung her gaze around to the others and said forcefully, "So are we gonna dreamwalk him or what?" 

"Yes," said Isabel immediately, in support. 

"We don't know enough," warned Max. Liz nodded in agreement. 

"Well, it's two to two," said Maria. "Alex, your thoughts, please?" 

The gangly teen looked up from the bottle of root beer he'd been toying with. "I don't know," he admitted. "I know I was all gung ho when we needed to get Maria out, but now I just don't know." He saw Maria frown and explained, "I want to help him. I just don't know if we should do any more tramping around in his head without him agreeing to it." 

Maria pounced on the idea. "So if he'll agree, then you'll agree?" 

Alex slowly nodded. "Yeah." 

"Then it would be four to two," Maria said. "Fine. I'll get him." She stood. "He's sitting on the other side of that tree across the quad." 

"That is still so weird," complained Alex. "That you can just feel where he is." 

"Yeah, I can," said Maria, straight-faced. "But I also saw him go over there a few minutes ago!" She grinned and ducked to avoid his crumpled-up napkin. "We'll be back in a minute." 

She headed determinedly across the quad, her steps almost as light as her heart. Get Michael over there, get him to agree, and this could all be over tonight. Things could go back to normal. Whatever normal was. She was halfway across the quad when she heard, "Hey Maria!" and felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found Mark Blumenthal smiling at her. "You up for some extra rehearsal after school? I'd like to go over the scene we blocked on Friday." 

"Sorry. I have to work today," she responded. 

"The Crashdown, huh?" 

"Yep. Look, I'm sorry to rush off, but I've kind of got to talk to someone," she said distractedly. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow." 

He hesitated for a moment, and then shrugged. "Sure. See you then." 

She gave him a half-hearted smile, her attention already zooming back across the quad. Her feet soon followed. She walked quickly up to the tree and stood next to it for a moment before clearing her throat. Michael, who had been staring at some unknown spot in the distance, looked up at her. 

"Hey," she ventured, giving their usual greeting. He watched her, not speaking. "We need to talk to you for a minute." 

"We?" he asked hoarsely. 

"Yeah. Everybody. We're working on a plan." 

He raised one eyebrow, but when she said, "Well, come on," he got to his feet and followed her back across the quad. Reaching the table, he looked around for a moment before saying, "Maxwell. Isabel. Everyone." 

Max didn't waste time with pleasantries, and got right to the point. "Michael, we've been trying to decide how to help you. Since you say there's still an opening in the wall within your mind, it might be possible to go back and finish what we started on Friday. But we have mixed feelings about it." 

"You have mixed feelings, Max. Mine are perfectly clear," Maria burst out. 

"What exactly is it that you want to do?" asked Michael calmly. 

"Have Isabel take me into your dreams again. Pull you out. I can do it, I know I can," she insisted. 

"No way," Michael said without hesitation. 

"What do you mean, no way? I can do it!" she said, a little more loudly. 

"Doesn't matter if you can. You're not going to," he replied matter-of-factly. 

"And who are you to tell me what I do and don't do?" she hissed. "You may be the second-in-command of your little Czechoslovakian trio, but I am not in your army! I am a free agent, and I do what I want to do. Got that, buddy?" she yelled, poking him in the chest with a finger. 

Michael caught her finger in his hand and looked down at her flushed face. "I believe I was the owner of my own mind, last time I checked. So if I don't want you rooting around in it, you won't." 

"Owner of your own mind? Please! Who was it that got himself stuck there in the first place?" she said in frustration. 

Michael's voice began to rise as he shot back, "And what? You think you could do better with it? If you had your way, all I'd have in my head would be bad pop music and stupid Aromatherapy stuff." 

"It can't be so stupid--you have a bottle of it!" she reminded him hotly. 

Alex, along with the other three, sat mutely watching the conversation escalate into a downright argument. It was both the same and different from the Michael-and-Maria squabbles they'd witnessed in the past. There was a brittle, icy edge to Michael's anger that seemed strangely out of place. But wait a minute. Anger? Emotion from the icy Michael? He groaned to himself. This wasn't going to be another channeling thing, was it? 

He watched as Michael reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a familiar-looking vial. "This?" the alien shouted. "Fine. I don't have it any more, okay?" And with that Michael threw it as hard as he could across the quad. Alex mentally assigned him two points when it landed in an open trash can on the far side of the grass. Maybe Michael should try basketball. 

He was pulled from this thought by a cry of anger from Maria, who, trembling with fury, swung her arm at Michael in an open-handed slap. Michael caught her hand a few scant inches from his cheek. For a moment, Alex thought Michael was totally going to lose it, but then the alien froze. Shutting his eyes tightly, he breathed hard for a moment before he seemed to regain control. He finally opened his eyes again and looked down at the red-faced girl in front of him. He was still grasping her hand in his, and he slowly released it. "No," he told her quietly. 

Maria stared at him for a moment before turning sharply on her heel. Rushing to the table, she grabbed her bookbag with fumbling hands, dropping it on the ground in front of him and spilling its contents at his feet. "Dammit!" she muttered, and stooped to gather her things. Michael bent to help her, but a glare from her stopped him in his tracks. Thrusting her books into her bag, Maria said, "Liz, I'll talk to you at work," before bolting from the table. Michael watched her go, then turned resignedly back to the quiet group in front of him. 

Liz and Max exchanged speaking glances and Liz rose, saying, "Let's head over to the library, Alex." He followed her, calling back over his shoulder, "I'll see you guys later." 

Max turned to Isabel, concerned at her look of distress. He put a hand over hers and squeezed it comfortingly. "It will be all right," he told her quietly. "I promise." She gave a shaky smile back, knowing that some things were beyond his power. 

"Michael," Max said, addressing his motionless friend, who was staring, eyes unfocused, into the distance. "Can we talk about this?" 

Michael remained silent for a moment before replying, "I'm not ready, Max." 

"All right," Max responded. "We'll give you some time." He rose to his feet, gathering his lunch trash, and looked down at his sister. "Coming, Izzy?" he asked gently. She nodded and rose, not glancing in Michael's direction, but then turned and walked to him. 

"We're here when you need us, Michael," she said, and touched his cheek softly. Then she turned and walked away, her head held high. Max gave his friend one last sympathetic glance before he followed. 

For a while, Michael didn't move, even when the bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period. Finally, he let out a deep breath, and lowered his head, tiredly rubbing the back of his neck. His eye was caught by a small piece of folded-up paper near his feet. It must've come from Maria's bookbag. He picked it up and began to shove it into his pocket, when some impulse made him stop and study it. It was a sheet of regular lined paper, torn from a spiral notebook. He unfolded it and looked at its contents. It was a sketch--a rather badly done one--but not so badly done that it wasn't clear who its subject was. It was Maria, and a dark, jagged X was scrawled over her image.  
  
TBC...  
  



	14. Masques: Chapter 14

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 14_  


Maria sighed and leaned her forehead against her locker in the Crashdown's break room. She'd gotten through her shift on auto-pilot, thankfully not messing up any orders in the midst of her mental haze. The restaurant had been particularly busy for a Monday, and Maria was grateful, because she'd also been able to avoid having any sort of significant talk with Liz. She could barely bring herself to think of the events at lunch, let alone talk about them. But now that the Crashdown was closed, she knew it was coming. 

She was right. Liz stepped through the door to the break room and approached her, asking hesitantly, "Are you all right, 'Ria?" 

Still leaning against the lockers, Maria whispered, "I don't think so." She didn't protest as Liz grabbed her bookbag and street clothes and pulled her up the stairs and into her room. Still in her uniform, Maria sank down onto Liz's bed. She numbly pulled the antennae from her hair and turned them over in her hands. Liz sat quietly next to her and waited for her to speak. 

Maria swallowed and forced out, "I...I just can't believe I did it. I almost hit him. After everything he went through with Hank, and then I almost hit him. I love him, Liz. How could I do that to him?" she asked, tears in her eyes. 

Liz put her arm around the shaking girl. "Oh, Maria," she said, at a loss for words. 

Lost in her misery, Maria allowed the words to pour out of her without pause. "It's the worst thing I could have possibly done. He's been through so much. He doesn't talk about it, but I know living with Hank was...bad. Really bad. He didn't deserve to be treated like that, Liz. Not then, and not now. I mean, everyone always worries about how Michael could hurt me. But we all forget I can hurt him, too. How could I try to hit him?" 

Liz gently stroked her friend's hair. "We all make mistakes. Michael has made them, too. He knows you love him. He'll forgive you. But you need to forgive yourself." 

"I don't know if I can," Maria whispered. "I don't know why I got so angry with him. I just wanted to help him, and suddenly I was just...furious." 

"I know," replied Liz. "I've never seen you that angry. It's not like you." 

"It was like I couldn't control it. One moment I was fine, and the next..." Her voice trailed off. 

Liz tried to calm her down. "You've been through a lot in the last few days. You almost died. Don't forget that." Maria opened her mouth to protest, but Liz went on, "I'm not saying that what happened was right, but give yourself a break. You're under a lot of pressure right now. Don't be so hard on yourself. It will be okay." 

Maria nodded, only partly convinced. "I...I need to talk to Michael," she said slowly. 

"I think you're right," her friend said gently. 

"I just hope it goes better than today did," Maria said glumly. "I got so angry, he got so angry." 

Something occurred to Liz. "Maria, you're right--he got angry. Really angry. Not at all calm and controlled, like he's been." 

Maria nodded. "I know. He starts to get emotional, to feel things, and then he closes his eyes and shuts it off. It's happened before." 

"The Michael we see here is cold and unemotional. Was he the same way when you were with him in the dream?" asked Liz, an idea beginning to percolate in the back of her brain. 

Maria smiled, thinking back to the time she'd spent with Michael that night. "No, he was definitely emotional. He was angry and frustrated, and he had absolutely no problem showing it. And he was also...well, sweet. He worried about me, and he held me so I could fall asleep. It was nice." 

"So it's as if we have two Michaels, one with emotions and one without, and one keeps affecting the other," stated Liz analytically. 

"Yeah, kind of. Yesterday, he did say that he could feel his other self, because of the hole in the wall. Maybe that Michael is, I don't know, leaking through to this Michael." 

"Maybe. But if this Michael says he wants to be whole again, why does he keep shutting himself down whenever any of the other Michael leaks through?" wondered Liz. 

Maria was struck by this question. "I don't know. Maybe I need to talk to him about that too." 

Liz gave a small smile. Maria was once again regaining some of her spark. "You do that, 'Ria. But no violence this time, okay?" 

Maria looked at the floor for a moment, embarrassed. "Okay. At least none from me, I promise." 

"So we're all right? You're all right?" Liz asked. 

"Yeah, I am. Or at least I will be," answered Maria, with a sigh. She stood and said, "Well, I should have been home by now. I'd better change and get there before my mom calls the cops." Quickly scrambling out of her uniform, she pulled on the skirt and top she'd worn to school. 

"I'll take your uniform down for you in the morning," Liz offered. 

"Thanks." She picked up her bag and suddenly remembered the paper she'd found in her locker that morning. "Oh, Lizzy, I wanted to show you something." She put the bookbag on the bed and began to rifle through it. "Remember that note I found in my locker?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Well, it..." It wasn't there. She dumped her books out on the bed and held them upside down, shaking them one by one. No note. That was weird. 

"What about it?" she heard Liz ask. 

Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Or something. "Oh, nothing. Never mind. It's not important, I guess." 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow." With a slight frown on her face, Maria headed for home.  
  


*****

Pulling into the school parking lot, Maria found an available spot and turned off the ignition. Another night with very little sleep. She'd lain in bed, trying to figure out how to talk to Michael about what had happened. How to apologize. Who knew saying you were sorry could be so hard? Well, at least she wasn't running late again today. In fact, she was about twenty minutes early. Not being able to sleep had its advantages after all; now she could take her time and make her way leisurely to class before-- 

Without warning, a piece of paper flattened itself with a bang on the windshield in front of her. She gave a startled shriek and sat for a moment breathing heavily, looking at the paper without seeing it. Suddenly realizing it hadn't attacked her car by itself--that there was a hand holding it onto the glass in front of her--she swung her door open and hopped out. "What do you think you're doing?" she said indignantly, realizing too late just who was standing there. Michael. Of course. What a way to start off the morning. Well, now was her chance. "Oh Michael, I'm glad you're here. I need to apol--" 

He interrupted her, his voice harsh. "What the hell is this?" 

"What is what?" 

"This." He held up the paper he'd flattened against her windshield. She looked at it; it was the sketch she'd found in her locker yesterday, the one of her. With the jagged X through it. 

"What are you doing with that?" she demanded. 

"You dropped it at lunch yesterday. Where did you get it?" he demanded right back. 

Why was he acting all pissy with her? Fine. She could give back as good as she got. "Maybe I drew it. Why do you care?" 

"You don't draw like that." 

"Just because I'm not you, Mr. van Gogh, it doesn't necessarily follow that I can't draw. I have lots of talents you don't know anything about!" she snapped. 

"Will you just answer the question? Where did you get it?" 

"None of your business," she retorted, grabbing at the paper. 

Michael held it up beyond her reach and barked, "I'm making it my business." 

Maria grimaced and said, "You and what army? Oh, I forgot, you _are_ your own army. Now give it to me!" She moved in close to him and put one hand on his shoulder, using it to balance herself as she stood on tiptoe and reached for the sketch. No success. He was too tall. She looked up, ready to give him a piece of her mind, only to see him staring hungrily down at her. Oh my. Of its own accord, her hand slowly fell to rest on his other shoulder, and she gazed up at him questioningly. Swallowing, she began, "Michael, I--" 

He tore his eyes from her and took a step back. Closing his eyes, he stood motionless until the tension in his face drained away, and he relaxed and began to breathe evenly. She could have reached out and taken the paper from him, but something in her made her remain still. When he finally opened his eyes, he folded up the paper and put it in his pocket before looking at her. 

"Why do you do that?" she asked softly. 

"What?" 

"Close off the moment you begin to show any emotion. It's like you're keeping the other part of you out on purpose." 

"You think I..." He swallowed, and then went on, "You think I'm doing it?" 

"Well, yeah." 

"Yeah, I guess that's what you'd see." He turned and took a step away from the car, then stopped as she spoke. 

"Michael, if that's not what's happening, tell me what is. You say you want to be yourself, but it looks to me like any time there's a chance you'll break through, you're stopping yourself from doing it. If I'm wrong, tell me. Let me help you." 

He moved toward the front fender of the car and leaned against it. Looking off into the distance, he said slowly, "It isn't me, it's him. The other me. I told you, he doesn't want out." 

"Why not?" 

He didn't answer her question, saying instead, "Every time I get angry, or upset, or even just see--" His voice cut off. He paused for a moment before continuing as if he'd never stopped, "Well, get angry, anyway, I start to feel things. The more...emotion...I feel, the more of him I can feel in me, too. I start to feel..." 

"Human?" she asked quietly. 

He shook his head. "Normal. Well, normal for me anyway. Whole. But then there gets to be a point when he's stronger than I am, and he shuts himself out." 

"Oh," she said, taking it all in. 

He ran an unsteady hand through his hair, then gazed out over the parking lot. "Look, just...just give me some time to deal with this all, okay? I'll take care of it. I just need to do this on my own." 

"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll try. But it's hard. It's hard to see you every day and not be able to talk to you, to know something is wrong and not be able to help fix it." 

"I could start skipping school again," he offered seriously. 

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You're just jonesing for an excuse to cut school again, aren't you? Well, not on my account, buddy." 

He nodded and they stood in silence for a moment. Finally she ventured, "Michael?" 

"Yeah?" 

"I'm sorry for almost hitting you yesterday." 

He shrugged, not looking at her, and said absently, "No big deal." 

"It is a big deal." She swallowed, then went on, "I had no right to do that. I'm sorry." 

"Look, you didn't even make contact. No harm, no foul." 

"I still want to try and make it up to you. What can I do?" She heard herself ask, and for a moment was both grateful and sorry that this wasn't _her_ Michael. If it were, she knew what he'd do. He'd yank her into his arms and proceed to claim her mouth with a passionate kiss... 

Instead he looked at her consideringly. "Fine. You want to do something, you can explain this sketch," he said, pulling it out of his pocket. 

"That's not what I meant," she protested, but stopped under his watchful eye. "Okay. I don't know what it's about. I found it in my locker yesterday. Someone must've slipped it in as a practical joke or something. It's nothing." 

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She shifted uncomfortably and demanded, "So can I have it back now?" 

"If it's nothing, then you don't need it, do you? I think I'll hold onto it for a little while." 

"Michael!" she burst out. "Split personality or not, do you have _any_ idea how exasperating you can be?" 

Was that a smirk on his face? He stood away from the car, looked down at her and said softly, "I try," before heading across the parking lot to the school. Maria leaned against the car, worn out from all this wrangling. Slowly a smile spread across her face. Yep. Exasperating. That was Michael, all right.  
  
TBC...  
  



	15. Masques: Chapter 15

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 15_  


Maria sat in the nearly empty auditorium and tried to concentrate on her script. She should have been using this time to memorize her lines, but instead, she slouched down and let her head fall back tiredly onto the back of her seat. She glanced beneath shuttered lids at the stage and watched as Pamela, Melanie and Debbie ran through the title song from the show. They were pretty good, actually. Their voices blended well, and they had most of their movements down pat. Too bad they couldn't be a little friendlier; she'd be having a much better time at rehearsals if they didn't practically ignore her existence. 

Oh well. Another week or two and the pit combo would start rehearsing with them, so Alex would be nearby. One friendly face. Well, not the only one, really. Ms. Bedinger was perfectly nice--for a teacher--and she was getting along really well with Mark, thank goodness. Since they had to spend so much time working together. 

Speak of the devil. Mark sat down next to her and smiled. "How's it going?" 

"Okay," she answered, then nodded towards the stage and commented, "The opening number's going pretty well." 

"Yeah, they're doing a great job. Almost as good as we are," Mark teased. 

She smiled back at him. "You know, it's really great to work with someone who's so humble and in touch with himself." 

"That's me, Mr. Humility," he joked back. They watched for a moment as Ms. Bedinger gave the girls onstage a few notes and they began the number again. "I can't believe we've gotten almost all of the scenework blocked," he commented. "Ms. Bedinger's really pushing us through it this year." 

"Is she always like this? So driven?" Maria wondered aloud. 

"She does like to have lots of time to run scenes once we're off book," he answered. "She'll do a lot of polishing then. And it's not like you and I have a whole lot of choreography to worry about, so it's easier to find time to work on the scenes." 

"That's true." 

"I hear your friend Whitman is going to play in the pit, huh?" he asked. 

Maria smiled fondly. "Uh-huh. He's really good. I can't wait to hear how they all sound." 

"They start rehearsing yet?" 

"They started Tuesday. Another week or so, and they'll be ready for us to run through numbers with them." 

"That'll be good." There was more silence as they watched the rehearsal in progress. 

"So what's up with you and Guerin?" he asked suddenly. 

"What?" 

"You and Guerin. I couldn't help but notice the uh...conversation...you two were having at lunch the other day." 

"You saw that?" 

"Half the school saw it. Man, has he got a good arm." 

"Oh." She flushed and bit her lip. 

"Hey, don't worry about it. It's not like everyone's buzzing about it or anything. It was four days ago. You know good ol' West Roswell High. There's something new and more exciting to gossip about by now." 

"Yeah." 

"I just wondered what was up. You looked upset. Can't have my leading lady all distracted now, can I?" he asked with a teasing grin. 

"What? And you think I have been?" she asked indignantly, sitting up. "I've worked really hard this week!" 

"No, no. I didn't mean that. Just wanted to make sure you were okay." 

"I'm fine." 

"And Guerin?" he prodded. 

"He's...he's a friend." 

"Yeah, it sure looked like it," he said dryly. 

"It's complicated. There's a lot going on..." Her voice trailed off as he grunted noncommittally. "Why?" she asked suspiciously. "Just how much of the conversation did you hear?" 

"Not much, just the tail end. Enough to know you two weren't on the best of terms." 

"We're fine." 

He eyed her, eyebrows raised. "Okay," she said, "we went through a rough patch there. But we're still friends." 

"He's kind of a strange friend for you to have." 

"Why?" she asked crossly. 

"You know, you just don't seem like you should be moving in the same circles, that's all. He's weird." 

She frowned at him, saying, "Well, maybe I like weird. Lots of my friends are weird. God knows I'm weird." 

"Yeah, but on you, it works," he said. She looked at him skeptically before bursting into laughter at his hopeful expression. 

"Okay, you dug yourself out of that one," she said between gusts of laughter. He joined in with a chuckle. 

Their laughter died down as they heard, "Maria? Mark? If you're ready, we'll try running the 'Skid Row' number." With a smile, Maria tossed her script on top of her bookbag and headed for the stage.  
  


*****

Humming to herself, Maria crossed the parking lot to where she'd left the Jetta. She was lucky that her mom hadn't needed it, so she could get from rehearsal to the Crashdown in time to work the Friday evening shift, which was always busy. She'd actually gotten out of rehearsal early, as Ms. Bedinger had decided to finish up the afternoon working with Mark and Dennis Cooper, who was playing Mr. Mushnik. They'd had a productive rehearsal, and Maria was feeling pretty good about things. She would head on over to the restaurant and maybe even get a head start on the weekend's homework before work. Liz would have a heart attack. 

Opening the car door, she tossed her bookbag onto the passenger seat and hopped in. She was about to buckle her seat belt when a strong feeling of déja vu made her pause. Looking directly ahead, she saw a piece of paper on her windshield. This time there was no hand holding it down; her windshield wiper had that duty. She hesitated, a funny feeling in her stomach, before getting back out of the car. She looked around the empty parking lot, seeing no one, before pulling the paper from its resting place. Why was she feeling so strange? It was probably just a note from Liz or something. Still, her hands shook as she unfolded it. 

Her mouth went dry as she read the words: **YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH IT**. She glanced around again, but no one was in sight. What was this? Get away with what? The only out-of-the-ordinary thing she'd done recently was...Oh god. Her very public fight with Michael. 

Without giving it a moment's thought, she scrambled into the Jetta and started it, pulling out of the lot with a screech of tires. Okay. Keep calm. Nothing to get worried about here. Just because you've been on the receiving end of a couple of very strange messages, there was no need to panic. No problem. A few minutes later, she found she'd pulled up in front of Michael's apartment building. She'd driven there almost without realizing it. She'd meant to head out to the Crashdown, but here she was. 

Nervously, she got out of the car and headed up to Michael's apartment. Knocking loudly on his door, she fidgeted uncomfortably as her mind raced. What was she doing there? Something strange happens, and she freaks and runs to Michael? Like he was going to be able to do anything about it. Right. So much for giving him some space. There was no answer to her knock, and she felt relieved. Okay. She wouldn't make a big deal of this. She'd just head to work and tell Liz about it. Her very rational friend would come up with a logical reason for the note and they'd laugh together and everything would be just fine and dandy. Obeying her own instructions, Maria turned and headed back down the hall, only to be brought up short as Michael started up the stairway. 

He looked at her for a moment before continuing up the stairs. "What's up?" he asked. 

She felt stupid now. Fumbling for a reason for her presence, she heard herself begin to babble, "I'm not here to invade your space or anything. I'm just..." What? Running to him with all her problems even though he was busy trying to deal with his own? "Ummm...I came to get the sketch you found." 

His hands in his pockets, he looked down at her. "Why?" he asked. 

She stumbled for a few seconds, trying to give an answer. Any answer. "Ummm...I...Look, it's mine and I want it." She spoke firmly. "Enough said." 

He eyed her consideringly for another moment before acquiescing. Pulling his keys from his pocket, he unlocked his door. "Wait here," he said shortly before stepping inside and closing the door behind him. 

Maria stared at the door. What was this? It wasn't like she'd never been in his apartment before. And now he couldn't even stand to have her inside for one minute? She fumed silently, her brow wrinkling. What did he think he was hiding? Contraband? Dirty magazines? Sexy alien women with big-- 

Michael opened the door and looked at her questioningly. She wiped the annoyed look off her face. 

"Here." He handed her the folded-up paper. 

She took it and fingered it nervously. "Thanks." After a moment, she turned to go. 

His voice made her pause. "You okay?" 

She carefully pasted a cheerful smile on her face before turning back to face him. "Of course I'm okay. I'm just fantastic, as a matter of fact. Never been better." Uh-oh. Better shut up now. She watched him watch her, his eyes narrowed. Finally he gave a little half-shrug and leaned against the doorjamb. She gave one more smile and headed down the hall, well aware that his eyes followed her until she was out of his sight.  
  


*****

Bookbag in hand, Maria raced up the stairs leading from the Crashdown's back room to the Parkers' home. Like she'd done a million times before, she headed straight for Liz's room. The door was open and the desk light was on, but Liz wasn't there. Maria paused for a moment, and then, hearing voices on the roof patio outside Liz's window, climbed out. 

Liz and Max were in mid-conversation, Liz sitting on her lounge chair and Max leaning up against the wall of the building. "Oops," Maria blurted. "Sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt." 

"You didn't," Liz responded, smiling. "Nothing important, anyway." 

"You sure?" the blonde girl asked. "'Cause I can go downstairs and talk to you after my shift." 

Liz looked at her, eyebrows raised, taking in her harried appearance. "Maria, what's going on? You seem...upset." 

"It's nothing," Maria assured her. "Look, I'll just head downstairs and get ready for work." 

Max spoke up. "No need," he said with a kind smile. "I'll just leave you two to talk. 'Bye, Maria. I'll see you tomorrow, Liz." Taking one last glance at the petite brunette on the lounge, he climbed down the fire escape ladder and was gone. 

"And what was that all about?" asked Maria quizzically. "For two people who say they're just friends, you sure looked awfully intent on each other." 

"I know," Liz answered. "We still don't agree on my leaving him to fulfill his destiny, lead his people." She smiled shyly. "But we're talking about it." 

"Lizzy!" cried Maria, happy for her friend. "I knew you couldn't hold out on him. It's so obvious how much he loves you." She looked at Liz's rosy face. "And truth to tell, I never understood how you could just walk away from him like that. Not when you loved each other." 

"I know you didn't. I'm not sure how I could, either. I just know it was what I had to do." She looked at Maria, suddenly unsure of what to say. "I wish I could explain it to you, Maria. But I really appreciate you being there for me, even though I can't." 

"Hey, best friends, remember? I've always got your back, Liz. No matter what." 

Smiling gratefully at her friend, Liz changed the subject. "So what is so important that you had to rush over here for? I thought you had rehearsal this afternoon." 

"They're working on scenes I'm not in. And I did want to show you something." She looked at Liz intently. "Do me a favor, okay? This is kept between us." 

"Sure," Liz said, startled. "If that's what you want. What's going on?" 

Maria reached into her bookbag and fished out two pieces of paper--the note she'd found on her car that afternoon and the sketch she'd just gotten from Michael. "I think someone's playing a practical joke on me, and it's got me a little weirded out," she admitted. "This is the note I found in my locker on Monday, and this was left on my car this afternoon." She handed them to Liz, who unfolded them and studied them carefully. 

"Are you sure it's a practical joke?" Liz asked. "It seems a bit more...malevolent than that. Who do we know who would do something like this?" 

Maria dropped her bookbag and sat on the lounge chair next to Liz. "No. Uh-uh. See, you're supposed to tell me I'm imagining things. That it's nothing. You're falling down on the job, Liz." 

Her best friend looked at her seriously and replied, "I'm sorry. I wish I could do that. But this note--what aren't you going to get away with? And the sketch. It's obviously you. Anyone could see that. Honestly, it worries me a little. I wish I knew what it all means." 

"You and me both," Maria chimed in. 

"The note is disturbing enough, but why didn't you show me the drawing earlier?" 

"I was going to, but...well, Michael had it." 

"Michael?" 

Maria nodded. "He picked it up at lunch on Monday and wouldn't give it back to me." 

"That's odd," mused Liz. "But you have it now." 

"After I found today's note, I headed over to Michael's and retrieved it." 

"Well, Michael's usually the first one to jump on the paranoia bandwagon. What did he say about it?" 

"Nothing about the sketch. And I...I didn't tell him about the other note." 

"Why not?" asked Liz. 

"Not everything has to do with the Czechoslovakians, Liz," Maria pointed out. "Besides, I didn't want him spending time thinking about other things when he should be concentrating on unscrambling his brain! First things first," she added firmly. 

"I thought you were going to give him some time to deal with things on his own," Liz reminded her gently. 

"I am. He wanted space; I'm giving him space. But it's been three days! What is he waiting for?" complained Maria. 

Liz gave her a sympathetic smile before turning back to the papers in her hands. "About these notes, Maria, I--" she began. 

"No, Liz. You promised to keep this between us. Don't tell anyone, okay? I just...well, I hoped you would tell me not to worry about it, but since you didn't, I just want some time to think about it. Let's get through one problem before dealing with another. Please?" 

Liz reluctantly nodded. "Okay."  
  


*****

Alex groaned as he looked at the stack of boxes piled haphazardly at the back of the garage. What a way to spend a Saturday morning. There were lots of things he could be doing--fun, interesting things. But no, here he was cleaning out the garage. Woohoo. With that expression of excitement out of the way, he decided to move all the boxes into the middle and then start sorting. Luckily both of his parents were out, so there was plenty of space to work with both cars gone. His bike didn't take up much room, after all. 

Picking up the first box, he carried it to the front of the garage and dropped it with a thud. Oops. He hoped there wasn't anything breakable in there. Heading back to the pile, he grabbed a very tall, bulky box and began to move blindly to the front, the box blocking his view. 

"Whitman," he heard. 

Stopping in his tracks, Alex shook his head. That had sounded like...No, there was no way _he_ would be seeking him out. He must be imagining things. Well, he could quit being a total doofus; there was one way to find out. He set the box down next to the first one and looked up. It was. "Guerin," he said calmly. 

Michael stood in the open doorway, looking very out of place framed against the Whitmans' neat lawn. He didn't speak. Well, that wasn't exactly unusual. Alex waited for a moment before deciding that he had work to do. "Well, if you're not going to tell me why you're here, at least you can help me move these boxes," he said. Michael seemed to mull this over a moment before joining him inside the garage. "Just move the boxes from the back of the garage to the front," he instructed. "Then I can go through them, sort things, and put them back." 

"Why?" Michael asked, not very curiously. 

"Because my Dad told me to clean the garage, so that's what I'm doing. Cleaning the garage." Alex lifted a third box and began to carry it to the front. After another moment, Michael did the same. Alex noted that the alien had no trouble, lifting the heavy boxes as if they weighed nothing. Figures. Special powers and super-strength, all in one package. He idly wondered if this applied to all aliens, if Isabel...No, he wasn't going to go _there_. 

In a short while, the back of the garage was empty. Alex grabbed a push broom and began to sweep the floor; Michael leaned against the garage wall and watched him. The silence would almost have seemed companionable, except that Alex knew there was something going on in Michael's brain. Why else would he be there? While he'd grown to like the tall loner, they weren't exactly chummy. 

"So are you going to tell me what's up, or do I have to guess?" he said cheerfully. 

Michael responded with one word. "Maria." 

"Aaaahhh," Alex replied knowingly. "She getting on your case again? Look, I know you told her to give you some space, but she really cares about you. She's not one to sit back and watch while her friends..." He stopped as Michael shook his head. 

"It's not that," he said tersely. "Here." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Alex, who unfolded it. Wow. Someone sure had some anger in him. 

"Hmmm. Interesting perspective. I'm not so sure about your choice of subject, though." 

Michael frowned, but didn't seem to take umbrage at Alex's assumption. He spoke unemotionally. "I didn't draw it. Maria found it in her locker on Monday." 

Alex studied the drawing again. "Somebody sure doesn't like her," he commented. "Any idea who? What does she think?" 

Michael straightened up a bit. "I don't know. And you can't ask her." 

"Why not?" 

Looking the slightest bit uncomfortable, he replied, "Because she doesn't know I've got it." Alex raised his eyebrows, and Michael went on, "She dropped it on Monday and I found it. Then this afternoon she...she came over to get it. And I gave her another one." 

"Another one?" Alex questioned. 

"I copied it and gave her the copy, okay? It wasn't hard. It's not a very good sketch," he replied, a wee bit defensively. 

Raising his eyebrows, Alex said, "I see why you wouldn't want her to know. She won't be very happy with you. So why'd you do it in the first place?" 

"I think something's really wrong here. When I first picked it up, I got a sense of...wrongness." He shook his head, unable to really describe what he'd felt. 

"You had a vision?" 

"Not exactly. I just got this feeling. I think Maria's in danger." 

Alex tensed. "From what?" 

"I don't know, all right? That's why I wanted to keep the sketch. I thought if I held onto it, maybe I would be able to get a vision, find out more." 

"And have you?" 

"Not so far," Michael admitted reluctantly. 

"So why tell me about it? Why not Max and Isabel?" 

"You're the only one I could tell who'd help keep an eye on her without getting on my case for...other things." 

Oh. Okay. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Just keep an eye peeled for anything strange." 

Alex grinned. "Michael, that doesn't exactly narrow it down. Our whole lives have been strange for a year now." 

"You know what I mean." 

"Yeah, I do," he answered, before his thoughts drifted back to Maria. "She's _really_ not going to be happy when she finds this out, you know. And she will." 

"Not if you don't tell her," the alien said stubbornly. 

"She can sense when you're around, remember? What is she going to think when you start hanging around, watching all the time?" 

"I'll deal with that when I have to." 

Alex studied Michael. "There's still something you're not telling me. What else?" 

"Just...keep an extra watchful eye on her when you know I'm around." 

This didn't sound good. "Why?" Alex demanded. 

Michael looked down at the floor before speaking softly. "I don't know what's going to hurt her. I can't tell where the danger comes from. What if it's from me?"  
  
TBC...  
  



	16. Masques: Chapter 16

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 16_

Maria headed down the nearly empty hallway, her mind on the afternoon ahead of her. One more class to get through, and then it was off to rehearsal. She smiled to herself--this afternoon they were going to run the musical numbers with the combo for the first time. Alex had warned her that things might be a little shaky since the combo hadn't had much of a chance to practice by itself yet, much less with the cast, but somehow he'd talked the others into jumping right into things feet first. They'd learn the music as they played it, he had insisted. Plus their keyboard player was Aaron Davis, who'd been accompanying the rehearsals so far; he at least would be able to lead them through. Frankly, Maria didn't care how they sounded; she was just happy Alex would be there. 

Humming a snatch of 'Somewhere That's Green' as she swiftly made her way down the hall, she was taken by surprise as an arm reached out, latched onto her, and unceremoniously pulled her into the eraser room. 

"Hey!" she began indignantly, then stopped. It was Michael. Oh boy. Michael. Eraser room. Some heavy-duty memories there...No, she wasn't even going to think about it. Space. She was giving him space. 

She managed to paste a composed look on her face and asked, "What's up, Michael?" He shifted uncomfortably, eyes avoiding her. She gave him a moment, and then turned to leave. Not more of this, thank you very much. He'd pulled her in here, not the other way around. 

Her hand was on the doorknob when she heard it. "Wait, Maria. Don't go. I...I need to talk to you." 

Hmmm. This was more than he'd said to her in a week. She turned and arched one eyebrow in expectation. "Well?" she asked. 

Michael thrust one hand unsteadily through his spiky hair, as if that would make the words come more easily. After a moment, he said hoarsely, "Maria. I..." His voice trailed off, and he turned and slammed his fist against the wall. "Dammit! I'm no good at this," he muttered. Then Maria watched, wide-eyed, as he drew himself up determinedly and looked her in the eye. "It's me," he blurted. "I'm back. And I...I love you." 

Maria caught her breath, staring at the usually shuttered dark eyes that now seemed to say so much. "Michael?" she asked unsteadily. Her heart began to pound, so loud she thought the entire school would hear it. Maybe the whole town. Slowly, she reached out with a trembling hand and touched his cheek softly. Closing his eyes, he whispered, "Yeah." 

"Oh, Michael," she choked, rushing into his arms. He held her tightly to him, and she breathed in, trying to absorb his slightly musky scent. A joyous smile lit her face, although he couldn't see it, since her cheek was pressed tightly against his chest. 

He chuckled softly as she tried to burrow even more deeply into his embrace, then took her gently by the shoulders and held her away from him. "Look, there are some things you don't know. I need to tell you about them. I..." Once again his voice trailed off, and he swallowed. 

Putting her hand gently against his lips, Maria said, "That doesn't matter right now. All that matters is you're back." She smiled up at him, and added, "And you love me?" 

He laid a gentle kiss on the fingers that were still pressed to his mouth and then took her hand in his. He said simply, "Yeah. I do." 

The smile on her face grew to a full-fledged grin. "Well then, Spaceboy, what are you planning to do about it?" she asked with a happy lilt in her voice. His eyes darkened and held hers as he moved toward her. His gaze didn't waver as he purposefully pulled her back into his arms, taking her chin in his hand and bending his head towards hers. She raised her face, meeting his lips in a searing kiss. Mouths melded, hands clutched, and senses seemed to spiral out of control... 

**FLASH**  
_Michael sitting in a booth at the Crashdown, idly playing with an empty Tabasco bottle and responding noncommittally to something Max said._

**FLASH**  
_A scowling Michael gazing off over the quarry, softening as Maria approached._

**FLASH**  
_Michael, sitting with head in his hands, in a round, metallic room._

**FLASH**  
_Michael sitting in a round room._

**FLASH**  
_Michael in the round room._

Pulling back from him with a gasp, Maria stared into his suddenly worried eyes. "What?" he asked sharply, gripping her shoulders tightly. The look in her eyes seemed to reassure him, and he took a deep breath, relaxing his hold on her. "What is it?" he asked again, more calmly. 

"I saw you," she answered, her eyes shining. "I got flashes from you." Her voice rose, and she burst out, "Michael! You didn't shut me out or close me off. You let me see you!" She reached up and pulled his face down to hers, pressing a rain of soft kisses on his cheeks, his chin, his lips. 

"Hey," he protested with a smirk. "I told you already. I love you." He ran a light finger down the bridge of her nose. "I meant it." 

"I think you really did," she practically sang. "Michael, I love you, too." 

"Good," he said simply, pulling her in for another kiss. She could hardly believe it. One minute things were going on like usual, stressful and aggravating, and the next, she was supremely happy. Well, she deserved it. Michael deserved it. Everyone deserved this much happiness, she thought giddily. Human, alien, it didn't matter. 

Smiling, she tried to pull away. He let out a small moan of protest before blindly seeking her mouth again, but she managed to avoid it long enough to murmur his name. 

"What?" he asked between kisses. 

"Do Max and Isabel know?" 

"What? That I love you? Pretty obvious, don'tcha think?" 

She chuckled. "No, Spaceboy, that you're back." 

"Not yet. I wanted to find you first." 

"Well, let's find them and tell them!" she commanded. "They'll be so happy about it. As happy as I am. Well," she amended, "_almost_ as happy as I am, anyway." 

He smirked down at her. "I didn't know I was so popular." 

"Oh yeah, that's it," she retorted teasingly. "So let's get them. And Liz, and Alex." 

"They're in class right now," he reminded her. Huh. This from Michael, who'd probably missed more classes than he'd ever attended. 

"And we shouldn't be?" 

He shrugged and admitted, "I couldn't wait." 

"So when did this happen? You didn't seem any different in English this morning," she commented. 

He looked uncomfortable. "It just happened. That's one of the things I need to talk to you about." Heading to the door, he opened it and glanced into the hall. She did the same. The coast was clear. "Come on," he said. "I need to show you something." 

"Where are we going?" she demanded. 

"You'll see." 

Together, they traveled down the hallway, back past her locker and down towards the auditorium. That reminded her. "I can't be gone long, okay? I have rehearsal after school." 

"Oh yeah, the play." 

"I didn't know you knew about it," she said, surprised. 

"I know about a lot of stuff," he said cryptically. 

They were almost past the auditorium when the double doors swung open. Maria was startled to see Liz there. "There you are," Liz said. "I've been looking everywhere for you." 

"Why aren't you in class, Liz?" Maria asked, ignoring her own truancy. 

"I needed to see you. I needed to tell you something." 

"What?" Maria asked. 

"I need to tell you in private," Liz said, eyeing Michael disdainfully. 

"It's all right," said Maria. "It's Michael. The real Michael. He's back. You can tell me in front of him." 

Liz hesitated, and then wheedled, "Please Maria? It will only take a minute." 

Maria was about to nod when Michael tensed and gripped her arm firmly. "Don't. Something's wrong. Don't go with her." 

Maria looked at him in confusion. "What? It's Liz. What do you mean?" He was glaring with something akin to hatred at her best friend, who, she was frightened to note, had a very similar look on her face. 

"Don't listen to him, Maria," Liz pleaded. "He's not who he says he is." 

"You're the one who's not who you say you are, _Liz_," he retorted. Maria looked back and forth from one to the other. What on earth was going on? This was her best friend, who she'd known forever, and her...well, her Michael. How could they behave like this to each other? Didn't they know how important they both were to her? 

"Maria, listen to me. Please," Liz begged. 

"I love you. Trust me," Michael commanded. 

"Ummm...guys? Are you trying to make me, like, choose between you or something?" Maria asked. "'Cause I don't think I can. I love you both. Well, not exactly in the same way," she fumbled. "But you are seriously acting weird. Both of you. So quit it, okay?" 

Neither of them paid her any heed. "Stay away from her!" shouted Liz. 

"Try and make me!" Michael taunted, letting go of Maria and taking one threatening step towards Liz. 

Maria tried again to be heard. "Guys! Stop it!" They continued to ignore her, facing off like a pair of Western gunfighters. Okay. This was going beyond weird. Enough already. Stepping between them, she put her arms out to keep them apart, saying, "Stop it, you two. It's--" One outstretched hand rested against Michael's chest. The other... 

...went right through Liz. As if she wasn't there, except for a cold, clammy kind of feeling. Oh god. What was going on? Trembling, Maria took a step back toward Michael, who wrapped his arms protectively around her waist and drew her away from her...friend? 

"Liz," she whispered, staring at the familiar face before her. 

"It's not Liz," Michael said softly. 

Liz--or whoever or _whatever_ looked like Liz--began to laugh derisively. An expression of menace crossed her--its--features. Michael continued to pull Maria away from the thing that wore her friend's face. "Come on," he whispered urgently. "We gotta get out of here!" 

Dragging her horrified eyes from her friend, Maria allowed Michael to grab her hand. Without another word, they turned and began to run. 

Down the hall away from the auditorium they went, the continuing laughter growing fainter behind them. "Which way?" gasped Maria, her hand still gripped tightly in Michael's. 

"Here," he barked, and guided her towards a nearby staircase. 

"What good will the second floor do?" she asked impatiently. "Let's find Max and Isabel and Alex and...Oh my god. Liz. What was that? Where is she?" she cried, panicked. 

"No time for that now. We need to get out of here," Michael shot back. 

"But--" 

"No questions," he interrupted. "Do you trust me?" 

She didn't even hesitate. "Of course I trust you. I just--" 

"Then go! Now!" He pushed her toward the stairs, and she began to climb them hurriedly. Michael followed closely, his hand on her back. 

After a few flights, she stopped and whispered, "Are they following?" 

Michael listened for a moment and shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maria," he asked intently, "do you know your lines?" 

"What?" she asked, confused. 

"Listen to me. Do you know your lines?" he repeated. 

"Well, most of them, I think. Why?" 

He didn't answer her question, saying instead, "Good. Maria, I need you to get to the top of the stairs. There's something up there we need." 

"I am not leaving you!" she shouted. 

"No, I'll be right behind you. I just need to make sure we're not being followed first." 

"But Michael--" she protested. 

"Just do it, okay? I'll explain later." 

She took in the pleading expression in his eyes and reluctantly gave in. "All right. But if you're not up there with me in three minutes, I'm coming back after you." 

Taking her face in his hands, he left a quick kiss on her lips and then turned her roughly towards the next flight of stairs. "Just get to the top. Find it. I'll be there in a minute." 

Blindly she began to hustle up the stairs. She could do this. Get to the top, find it--Wait a minute. Find _what_? Well, whatever it was, Michael said it would help them, so find it she would. She turned to take a look behind her, but there was no sign of Michael. Of anyone, actually. The building seemed empty. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold. She didn't remember being on this floor of the school before--which was it, the ninth? tenth?--and she'd wager no one else had been either. The steps had become gradually more grimy, and she now had to stop to brush the occasional cobweb from her face. How many more steps were there? She felt like she'd been climbing forever. 

Just when she was about to give up and sit on the steps in defeat, she turned the corner and saw a metal door a few steps above her. The sign on the door read 'Fire Exit'. Finally! Climbing the last few steps, she pushed the door open and began to hunt for the item she knew Michael needed so badly. Where was it? _What_ was it? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something glinting in the dim light. Turning toward it, she bent and slowly picked up the relic that would save them all. Her hands trembled as she held it. It was a... 

...peanut butter and jelly sandwich? 

Huh? 

"Maria!" The voice broke in. "You're on!" 

What? She turned to face Isabel. The tall girl looked down on her impatiently. "You're late for your entrance," she hissed, taking Maria by the arm and thrusting her towards the black curtain to the left. "Go on, they're waiting for you!" With that, she shoved Maria through the curtain and onto the stage. 

Maria caught herself before she could do more than stumble a few steps, and tried to look out at the audience. The lights were blazing in her eyes, and she couldn't see beyond them, but she could feel the expectation pouring out from the people who sat, unseen and silent, watching in the dark. Oh boy. What scene were they in? She looked frantically around the stage, shooting a panicked look at Mark, who was waiting quietly for her to...to what? Was it her line next? If only Mark would pull it together and give her a little help. A clue as to where they were or something. 

Holding the sandwich tightly in one hand, she fumbled with the other in her pocket. Aaaahhh. There it was. "Just a second," she said to Mark in a stage whisper, pulling the script out of her pocket and thumbing through it frantically. She squinted and tried to focus on the page, but the words danced around and blurred mockingly, no matter what she did. Darn it! She looked helplessly at Mark, who continued to stand there with a dopey grin on his face. Fantastic. Some help _he_ was. 

A thought popped into her head. Alex! Alex would help her. Moving towards the front of the stage, she shielded her eyes from the pink-gelled spotlights that were trained on her and peered unsteadily into the orchestra pit. Where was he? He'd give her a hand, wouldn't he? A clue. Anything... 

She gave a sudden shiver as a familiar tingle ran down her spine. Michael was nearby! In her panic, she's almost forgotten him. She'd told him she knew her lines, and now here she was, making a complete fool of herself in front of him. God, this sucked. Wait a minute--she needed to pull herself together here. The show must go on, and all that hackneyed bullshit. Stepping even closer to the edge of the stage, she hissed, "Line?" and listened intently for a familiar voice to hand her the cue line. 

Instead what she got was a hand on her back, between her shoulder blades, and then she was falling forward into the orchestra pit, falling...falling, like Alice down the rabbit hole...until she landed with a crash... 

...on the floor next to her bed. She lay there for a moment, stunned, before carefully rolling up into a sitting position and gently touching the now sore spot on her forehead. God, even her dreams were giving her headaches... 

And outside Maria's window, a spike-headed form crouched in the dark, unmoving, as he kept guard over the girl inside.  
  
TBC...  
  



	17. Masques: Chapter 17

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 17_

Juggling her history book in her hands, Maria walked down the nearly empty hall. Late again. If she hadn't taken the time to stash her other books in her locker...Oh well. Just this one class to get through--if she could remember any of the facts she'd memorized about world exploration in the sixteenth century, anyway--and then it would be off to rehearsal. She gave a happy little skip as she remembered that Alex would be there that afternoon. For some reason he'd talked the other combo members into joining the cast a week early. It would be rough, but they'd pick the music up as they ran scenes. Plus Aaron had already been playing for rehearsals, and he'd help guide the musicians through. Maria could hardly wait for Alex to join them--she would feel so much more confident with his quiet support. 

Her mind on the afternoon ahead, Maria was understandably taken aback when a large hand suddenly grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the eraser room, pushing her past before closing the door tightly behind them. Turning back towards the door, she opened her mouth to scold, but closed it abruptly. Michael. In the eraser room. She shivered as a sudden fit of déja vu struck her. This had happened before--but when? 

Visions of a weirdly frightening Liz, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and endless flights of stairs tumbled around in her mind before she latched onto the dream she'd had the night before. In her dream, Michael had pulled her in to the eraser room, just like this, to tell her he was himself--and to profess his love for her. Now here he was, pulling her into the eraser room again, for real this time. 

She swallowed as her mind continued to race. What if it hadn't been just an ordinary dream? What if it was a precognitive one? Sure, she'd never had one before, but there was a first time for everything, right? Maybe it was all going to happen for real. Maybe he'd tell her-- 

She sucked in a gasp of air. "Michael?" she said hopefully. 

He didn't answer, instead looking right over her head and saying flatly, "See, I told you." 

What? She turned and looked behind her, at whomever he was addressing. Well, well. Isabel. Okay, even in her most frightening dreams, she'd never imagined herself in the eraser room with Michael and _Isabel_!! 

"Let me see," the tall girl instructed. 

Maria tried to be nonchalant about it. "See what?" she asked innocently. 

Michael was instantly by her side, pushing back the wave of hair she'd so carefully arranged over her forehead that morning. "This," he specified calmly. 

Darn it! It really wasn't that bad--yeah, a lump and a slowly darkening bruise, but she'd had bumps and bruises before. Besides, she'd really wanted to keep it hidden. To avoid a situation like this one. Because, frankly, she felt really stupid about it. She hadn't fallen out of bed since she'd graduated from her crib into a 'big girl' bed. And she wasn't a toddler any more, after all. "It's nothing," she said in an attempt to blow it all off. 

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Isabel said kindly. "Hold still." She lightly ran her fingers over Maria's forehead, healing it. "There," she added in satisfaction, "_now_ it's nothing." 

Maria put her hand up. Her forehead was once again smooth and unbruised. "Thanks," she said simply. 

Isabel smiled warmly. "No problem," she returned airily. Maria smiled. Maybe she was going to get out of this without having to embarrass herself after all. 

Their moment of bonding was interrupted by a gravelly voice. "What happened? Who hurt you?" 

Oh, fantastic. Just what she'd wanted to avoid. "Nothing hap--Wait. What do you mean, who hurt me? No one hurt me. It was an accident." 

"Okay, so who _accidentally_ hurt you?" Michael shot back. Was that a flicker of emotion across his face? Why was he getting so upset over a little bruise? 

Isabel caught Maria's eye before shooting a pointed glance at Michael, whose hands were clenched tightly. "You'd better tell us," she advised. "Before Mr. Calm here starts accidentally exploding things." 

Oh, great. Double great. Fine. They wanted her to embarrass herself? Okay, she would. What was a little humiliation between friends? God, the things she did for these Czechoslovakians... 

"Fine. I just had a little nightmare and...and I fell out of bed, okay?" she admitted, her face flushing as she spoke. "Just me being klutzy again. No big deal." She looked up to see Isabel's eyes dancing in amusement. "So not all of us can be perfectly graceful all the time, oh perfect one." 

With a little laugh, Isabel said, "You've obviously never seen me on a bad day." 

"Seen you on a bad day? I didn't even know you had them," joked Maria. 

Isabel rolled her eyes and then asked, "You're fine now, right?" At Maria's nod, she teased, "Well then, maybe you should borrow a sleeping bag for the floor. Might be safer." 

Maria grinned. "Not with my luck." She decided that turn about was fair play; her turn to tease. "So what exactly were you and Spaceboy here doing alone in the eraser room anyway, hmmm?" she asked, raising one eyebrow mockingly. 

Isabel laughed, "You know, a little of this, a little of that--" 

Michael, his face once more impassive, interrupted, breaking the jovial mood. "We were waiting for you." 

Huh. Spaceboy had no sense of humor. "Well, you found me. And healed me--thanks again, by the way--so now may I go? I'm late for a history class. So are you, as a matter of fact, Michael," she pointed out. 

"You go ahead. I just need to check on a few things first," he said cryptically. 

"I'm late too," said Isabel. "See you later!" and she was out the door. 

Maria looked carefully at Michael. She'd been really good--hard though it was--and had left him to his own devices, giving him the space he said he needed. Should she take this opportunity to press him about his situation? Well, no time like the present. History could wait; here she went. "Michael," she began, only to stop as he looked at her, his eyes flat and dull. Hmmm...maybe this wasn't such a good time after all. Okay, switch topics. 

"So why did you think someone hurt me, anyway?" she asked in an attempt to make conversation. Her lack of real interest reversed itself immediately when he looked away sharply. This was interesting. What was he thinking? "Well?" she prodded. 

"No reason. I just saw the bruise in English this morning." 

"And you leapt to the conclusion that someone had been hurting me?" 

His stared down at her. "It's not like it hasn't happened before." 

"It has not! I haven't--" 

"That's not what I mean. I meant I've been known to jump to the occasional conclusion, all right?" 

She snickered. "You could win the Gold Medal in Olympic Conclusion Jumping, Michael. But just because someone has a lump on their forehead, it doesn't mean that--" His eyes shifted away from her and she came to a sudden realization. "Look, not every bruise is made on purpose. Sometimes accidents happen. This was one of those times." 

He didn't look at her as he responded, "It's just...I thought...You shouldn't have to go through that, that's all. You don't deserve that." 

Stepping closer, Maria put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "No one _deserves_ it, Michael. No one. Got that?" 

He shrugged her hand off and didn't answer. Her frustration with him began to reach a boiling point. "Look, you need to stop putting the blame for everything squarely on your own shoulders. What Hank did to you wasn't your fault. You are not the cause of everything bad that happens, all right?" 

He opened his mouth to speak, but she rushed on, "No. Horrible things happened in the world long before you hatched, and they probably will a long time after you fly off and save your home planet or whatever. So would you please give yourself a break from all this guilt already, because frankly, it's pretty self-centered to think that you're the cause of everything that goes wrong! Contrary to what you might think, you are not a screw-up! God, why are you so caught up in your own misery that you can't see things for the way they really are?" 

She looked up at his blank expression. His mouth worked for a moment, but he seemed unable to find any words. Her voice gentled as she went on, "Just stop blaming yourself for everything, okay? And while you're at it, take some of that quality blame time and apply it to working on your little Jeckyll-and-Hyde problem instead." 

Michael tensed. Uh-oh. Maybe she'd gone a little too far there. Her suspicions were confirmed as he coldly said, "Maybe I could if you weren't always bugging me about it. Stop trying to play Dear Abbey with me. You can't magically fix everything. You don't have any idea what's going on." 

Hands on her hips, she eyed him angrily. "Fine. I'll keep my nose out of it, and let you waste your time on your little self-pity party. You want me out, I'm out. But then you keep out of my life. You no longer have the right to worry about me, got it? Stay away from me, Michael Guerin. Because I can't do this any more." Heading into the hall, she closed the eraser room door firmly behind her, leaving a silent--and uncertain--Michael in her wake.  
  


*****

"And that's when I walked out," finished Maria calmly. "Left him standing all alone in the eraser room." 

"Wow," said Liz in shock, leaning limply against the bathroom counter. "Somehow I never pictured you walking out on him. The other way around, sure, but...Wow." 

"I just can't take it any more, you know? I don't understand why he won't let me help him. Why he won't let any of us help him, for that matter. I don't even think he's doing anything to help himself. He's just sitting there like a...like a lump, waiting for god only knows what to happen. And then when he finally does do something, it's to obsess over something totally unimportant instead of concentrating on getting better!" Maria exclaimed in frustration. 

Liz sighed as the blonde girl's voice rose in pitch once again. Oh well. At least she wasn't still pacing maniacally across the rest room floor. "Look, just give it some time. Have some patience, okay?" Liz asked quietly. 

"You know what? No," Maria responded firmly. "I gave him time and he did nothing with it. That's it. I can't give him any more. I am off him. Quitting cold turkey." She caught Liz's eye and smiled wryly. "So do you think they make a Michael patch?" 

Liz couldn't help but chuckle a little as her friend attempted to resume some of her typical determination. "Maybe if Michael were--" she began, only to be interrupted. 

"Who? I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name," Maria said stoutly. 

"Maria!" 

"No way, Liz. He doesn't want me in his life, fine. Then from now on he's not in mine. As far as I am concerned he doesn't exist." 

Liz sighed and tried again. "Maria--" 

"I'm serious. I declare the space around me a Michael-free zone," she said adamantly. "And as my best friend, you'll help me out with this." 

"Of course I'm your best friend, Maria," Liz burst out. "We've been friends practically forever. But Michael has become a friend, too. And right now he needs all the friends he can get. Please don't make me choose you over him." 

"That's not what I mean!" Maria responded hotly. "If Michael...well, if such a person really existed--which as far as I am concerned he doesn't--I would want him to have good friends like you. I don't want to take that away from him. I just can't..._wouldn't_ be able to be one myself. If he existed. Which he doesn't." She looked squarely at Liz, her expression serious. "I'm not asking you not to be his friend, Liz. Just don't parade it in front of me, okay?" 

Liz nodded, saying, "I won't." 

"Thanks. You're a good friend," said Maria gratefully. She smiled at Liz before continuing, "A really good friend, actually. I can't believe you skipped last period to listen to me vent. Keep this up, Parker, and you'll ruin that perfect-student image." 

"I'm not the only one here skipping," Liz pointed out. 

"No, but somehow I don't think the teachers will be quite as shocked by my absence." 

Liz tried to protest, but the ringing of the bell put an end to it before she could really begin. Maria grabbed her bookbag off the counter and said, "I've got to book. Rehearsal calls." 

The two girls left the restroom and joined into the flow of students moving down the hall as Liz responded teasingly, "My, aren't we eager." 

"Yeah. I'm really kind of excited. Alex is going to be there this afternoon," Maria explained as they headed towards the staircase. "Finally, a friendly face." 

"Are things really that bad?" questioned Liz. 

Maria didn't answer, distracted as she thought she felt a familiar tingle. Darn it. She thought she'd avoided having to see him when she'd chosen to spend last period venting to Liz instead of actually attending History class. This just sucked. No, she wouldn't let it get to her. She wouldn't even look around in an attempt to catch one quick glance. She would just focus on Liz. Her best friend. Her pal. Her... 

Oops. Liz. What had Liz just asked? Something about rehearsal. She fumbled for an answer. "Are things that bad?" she echoed her friend's question. "Not really, I guess. When I'm acting, it's great. I really love it, you know. I can absolutely lose myself in Audrey, and just deal with her problems for a while. Which actually seem kind of simple compared to mine." She smiled a little. "It's just between scenes when things are a little rough. I'd like it if--" The rest of her thought went unspoken as she suddenly lost her footing and, with a yelp, slid down four or five steps. Unable to keep on her feet, she landed sprawled on the bottom-most step. 

"Oh my god! Maria!" cried Liz, rushing to her side. "Are you all right?" 

A crowd of students formed around the fallen girl, who struggled to catch her breath. "I..I think so," she stammered, pushing herself to a sitting position. A moment later a tall figure pushed through the crowd and offered her a hand up. "Thanks, Max," she said, "But I think I'm just going to sit here for a minute." 

Max knelt beside her and looked worriedly into her face. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, over the comments and titters from the crowd around her. 

She assured him, "Yes, I'm fine," then continued loudly, "Show's over!" in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Looking up at the sea of faces around her, she went on in a wry tone, "For my encore, you'll have to come see Little Shop of Horrors, 'cause this is all there is for now." 

With a few chuckles, the students began to disperse, off to their jobs and club meetings and, god forbid, study sessions. Maria closed her eyes for a moment, only to open then again at Liz's insistent, "Maria! Something _is_ wrong. I can tell." 

"I think I did something to my ankle," the girl admitted. "The right one." 

"Can you move your foot?" Liz asked, concerned. She reached gently towards her friend. 

Maria forestalled her motion. "Ummm, let's just not touch it for a minute." 

"Does it hurt badly?" 

"Not really. Just don't touch it, okay?" 

Liz turned to Max. "If it was twisted or sprained, it would probably hurt," she said quietly. "If she can't feel it, it might be broken. The shock might keep it numb for a while." 

"I'm right here," Maria said crossly. "You can talk to me, you know." 

"Sorry," Liz apologized. 

"It's all right. I'm sure it's not broken, just a little twisted, that's all. An ace bandage and some Epsom salts and I'll be fine." Maria braced herself and then started to push herself to her feet. She didn't get far. "You know, I think I'll just sit here and rest a few more minutes. Why don't the two of you run by the auditorium and tell Ms. Bedinger that I'll be a few minutes late?" she suggested hopefully. 

Max spoke up. "I don't think so. You're hurt. We're not going to leave you sitting here by yourself while we run errands, Maria." 

"Come on. I'll be fine." Maria's tone shifted. "I'd do it for you!" she wheedled, to no avail. 

"You won't be fine. Your ankle's beginning to swell," Liz pointed out. 

"Okay, it's time for Dr. Max," the tall alien said decisively. He looked around at the rapidly emptying halls. "Liz, grab our books and find an empty classroom, okay?" 

With haste she complied, as he picked up Maria unceremoniously and rose to his feet. "I'm not luggage, you know," Maria complained. "You can't just lug me all over--Oh. I guess you can." 

"Over here," Liz said, holding the door open. "Put her on the desk." She kept an eye on the hallway to make sure no one approached as Max deposited the wounded girl carefully on top of the teacher's desk. 

"This might hurt a little bit," he said, reaching for her shoe to ease it off. 

"I told you, it doesn't hurt at all," insisted Maria. "Ouch!" she hissed suddenly as her ankle accidentally shifted. 

Max rested his fingers lightly on her swelling joint and closed his eyes in concentration. It was broken, all right. A small fracture where the ankle joined into the foot. She must have twisted it just the wrong way when she fell. He sent energy into the bone, healing it and reducing the swelling of the tissue around it. When he was done, he looked down at Maria. "It was broken," he told her. "You should be fine now." 

"Thanks," she said, smiling up at him. Gingerly, she swung her legs over the side of the desk and slowly stood up, testing the ankle. "It does feel fine," she said. "You do good work." 

"You still have one problem," said Liz, pointing at the silver fingerprints on Maria's ankle. "I don't think people are going to buy that it's a temporary tattoo." 

"Not a problem at all," insisted Maria airily. "I'll just grab my sneakers and an extra pair of socks from my gym locker. The big question is why are there fingerprints on my ankle when there weren't on my forehead?" Max looked curiously at her, and she realized she'd have to explain. Fantastic. Now everyone would know about her clumsiness. Isabel and Mi--well, Isabel knew, and she'd told Liz, and now Max would know. Maybe she should just rent a billboard. "It's nothing," she said briefly. "Last night I had a nightmare and fell out of bed. I got a lump on my forehead. Today Isabel fixed it, that's all." 

Max nodded, and said, "Fixing a lump isn't as difficult as fixing a broken bone. That's probably why there are fingerprints now and not before, and why Liz had an entire handprint after she was shot." 

"After you saved my life, you mean," Liz reminded him with a smile. 

"You and Isabel should go into the medical profession," Maria bantered. "You could make a fortune, just patching your friends up." 

"I'll keep it in mind," he said. 

"Of course," Liz teased, "if Maria weren't so accident-prone, you might not have such a big client base." The joking expression on her best friend's face immediately vanished. "What?" 

Maria hesitated before saying resolutely, "You have to promise not to tell Michael." Liz raised her eyebrows at the voluntary mention of this particular name. 

Max, who didn't know about Maria's sudden purposeful ignorance of a certain alien's existence, merely asked, "Why?" 

Maria looked at the two people standing in front of her. "Because this time it wasn't an accident. I think I was pushed."  
  
TBC...  
  



	18. Masques: Chapter 18

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 18_

"What?" Liz burst out incredulously. 

"I'm not really sure," Maria admitted slowly. "It all happened so fast. But I think I felt someone hit my back right before I went down." 

"Did you see who it was?" asked Max. 

Maria shook her head. "I was busy talking to Liz. I just know there were a lot of people around. And I..." She stopped abruptly. 

"You what?" Liz asked. 

Maria hesitated before reluctantly continuing, "I thought I felt Michael nearby." 

"Maybe he saw something," Max thought aloud. 

Maria tensed. "You can't ask him." 

"Why not?" Max responded in surprise. He took in the look of alarm that was growing in Maria's eyes, then glanced at Liz and saw her concerned expression. "Okay, what's going on?" 

Liz opened her mouth to speak but stopped at the almost imperceptible shake of Maria's head. It didn't go unnoticed by Max, who stood resolutely and asked again, "What's going on?" 

Biting her lip, Liz looked pleadingly at Maria, who sighed and then nodded resignedly. "Go ahead and tell him. I've got to go, anyway," she said, grabbing her bookbag from the desk where Liz had dumped it. In the doorway, she turned back and smiled. "Thanks again, Max." Then she slipped into the hallway and headed towards the gym. 

Liz watched her go before turning to Max, ready to explain the events of the day.  
  


*****

Rushing into the auditorium on now safely disguised and sneaker-clad feet, Maria breathlessly apologized to Ms. Bedinger. "Sorry I'm late. I had a little problem that held me up." 

The teacher looked at her sternly. "Fine, but don't let it happen again." Her attention moved to the rest of the cast. "Now that we're all here, let's begin running the opening sequence, from the beginning through the 'Skid Row' number. Places, please." 

Maria dropped her bag on an auditorium seat and headed towards the stage, to wait in the wings for her entrance. As she reached the steps leading to the stage, she gave a quick wave to Alex, who was sitting with his bass and amp. He cocked an eyebrow inquisitively at her and grinned when she shrugged helplessly. 

As she headed into the stage right wings, she passed the doo-wop girls, who were waiting for the music to begin. "Nice of you to join us," commented Pamela with a sneer. Maria looked her directly in the eye, saying nothing. She just held Pamela's gaze coolly until the other girl shifted her eyes away, backing down. 

Smiling inwardly, Maria continued into the wings to await her cue. 

Two and a half hours later, Maria collapsed with a sigh into an auditorium seat. Ms. Bedinger had worked them mercilessly all afternoon, cracking a metaphorical whip. But at least she had dragged excellent performances out of them. And all without once raising her voice. It was a productive rehearsal, but on top of everything else that had happened that day, Maria was exhausted in both mind and body. 

"Rough afternoon," commented Mark as he sat down next to her. 

Maria nodded, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. "But good," she pointed out wearily. 

Mark agreed, and they sat companionably for a few minutes. "You don't have to work tonight?" he asked. 

"No, I actually have an evening off," she responded. "I'm going to head home and take a crack at my homework. I'm just waiting for Alex to finish packing up." 

"He's done." Alex's voice came from the row in front of her. 

"Hey Alex," she responded, her eyes still closed. 

"Pretty good job today, Whitman," put in Mark. "You guys sound great." 

"Wait until we actually know the music," Alex riposted with a grin. 

Maria teased, "You mean that wasn't your very best?" 

"Hey, at least _I_ was here on time," the teen shot back. 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she grumbled with a dismissive wave. 

"So are we sitting here to make up the time you missed, or what?" he asked with a smile. 

"I'm just trying to get enough energy to move," explained Maria. 

"Yeah, me too," commented Mark. "And it's only Tuesday. Look what we get to look forward to for the rest of the week." 

Maria relaxed further into her seat. "Don't even talk about it. I'm too tired to think." 

"Well, I'm not in a hurry," said Alex. "So take all the time you need. Just so long as I'm home in time to get ready for school tomorrow." 

Maria raised one eyebrow in his direction. "So that would be what, fifteen minutes before first bell?" 

"Nah," he objected. "I've got it down to a science. Make it ten." 

Maria gave a small snort of laughter and the three sat quietly for a few minutes. Finally Mark broke the silence. "So what are you doing for Halloween?" he asked Maria. 

"Actually, I'm dressing up this year," she said. 

"Really? As what?" 

"As a Crashdown waitress. I've got to work on Halloween, plus a double shift on Saturday when all the parties are. Gotta make up for all the time I've taken off to do the show." 

"You get much business on Halloween?" he asked curiously. 

"Oh, you know, the usual," cut in Alex. "You've got your commonplace, run-of-the-mill witches and vampires, your everyday goblins, werewolves and super heroes. Nothing unusual." 

"Don't forget the parents who stop in after burning out on their kids' trick-or-treating," added Maria. 

"Well too bad you won't be able to celebrate," sympathized Mark. 

"Actually, I'm not really in the mood," Maria admitted. 

"Huh. I would've thought that you'd jump at the chance to go all out on a costume." 

Alex snickered. "She usually does. You should have seen what she wore the first time she sang with the Whits." 

"That was not a costume!" protested Maria. "It was a well-thought-out, carefully chosen ensemble designed to enhance the mood of the music." She caught Alex's eye and together they burst into laughter. "Okay, so maybe it was a little bit overboard. But one of us had to look good." 

"And which one of us would that have been?" Alex queried, then cowered away from the mock fist she raised in his direction. 

"Cut it out, you two." Mark spoke with a smile in his voice. "Do I need to separate you?" 

The two raised innocent eyes up to him as they spoke in unison. "We don't know what you're talking about."  
  


*****

Later, in the car, Alex studied Maria carefully. "Okay, DeLuca, what is going on with you?" 

"I don't know what you mean." 

He shook his head. "You can't fool me. I've known you too long." 

Maria sighed and rested her head on the steering wheel. "So what was your first clue?" 

"Well, I did notice that we've been sitting in the car for fifteen minutes and yet you haven't driven anywhere," Alex responded gently. 

"Oh," she said, not moving. 

"Big brother Alex here. Good for telling all your problems to. We guarantee you'll feel better or your money back." 

Maria let out a deep breath. "It's...it's a lot of things. The show, school, work, everything seems to be piling up at once. Plus some other things have happened." 

"What things?" 

"Alex, do you promise to keep this a secret? You can talk to Liz--she already knows--but it's just between the three of us." 

Alex considered for a moment. "Of course I'll keep whatever it is a secret. Unless it puts someone else in danger or something." 

"I don't think it's anyone else, just me," Maria said. 

"Okay, now you've really got me curious. Talk," he commanded. 

Maria leaned her head back and stared at the sun visor in front of her. "Of course, the final straw was a big fight I had with Michael today." 

He nodded. What else was new? "What was it this time?" 

"Oh the same old thing, how he won't let me help him, and yet he doesn't do anything about it himself." 

He looked at her for a moment, then spoke quietly. "You know, I'm really sorry I didn't come down on your side on the whole dreamwalking-Michael issue. We really can't afford to have him...well, disenfranchised right now." 

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously. 

He hemmed and hawed for a moment. "Oh, you know, just with so much going on right now. The whole 'they've got to prepare for an alien enemy attack' thing. Lots to think about. Anyway, I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, me too." She brightened. "Well, if you really feel that way, then it would be you and me and Isabel against Max and Liz. Three to two." 

"There's still Michael. Three to three. We'd need a tiebreaker. Maybe we could flip a coin." 

Her voice grew sarcastic. "Maybe we could flip Michael. Heads, he's a jerk and we help him; tails, he's a jerk and we help him." 

"Why don't you tell him that? Keep it up and I'm sure you'll win him over to our side, DeLuca," Alex mocked. 

She sobered. "I can't. I'm ignoring his existence." 

"You're what?" 

"You heard me." 

Alex burst into a fit of laughter. "I hate to burst your bubble, but you're not ignoring his existence. He's all you've talked about for the last five minutes. I think you need to redefine your concept of ignoring." 

She groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I know. I suck at it. But I'll get better. I have to." 

Alex opened his mouth to comment further, but changed his mind. Instead he said, "You said that was the final straw. So what's the rest of the haystack?" 

"You promised, remember. No talking about it to anyone but Liz," she reminded him. He nodded and she explained about the ugly sketch, the threatening note, and then about her fall earlier that afternoon. When she was done, he sat silent. This was getting way too complicated. He couldn't tell Michael about the second note or Maria's broken ankle, because he'd just promised Maria he wouldn't. He couldn't tell Maria that the sketch she had wasn't the real sketch, or that Michael thought there was danger lurking, because he'd promised the alien he wouldn't. He couldn't tell Max or Isabel...well, anything. He gave a mental groan. Since when did all this weight have to rest on his shoulders? He suddenly felt as tired as he knew Maria was. 

"You're taking the threat to my physical and mental well-being awfully calmly," he heard Maria complain. 

"I'm just soaking it all in," he responded. "It's a lot to worry about." 

"I didn't tell you to worry you. I just...Well, you asked!" cried Maria indignantly. 

"Hey, I need to know about these things so I can help. That's what friends do." 

Maria muttered, "Maybe you should explain that to Michael." Alex pretended he didn't hear. 

"So what are you going to do about all this?" he asked seriously. 

"I'm not really sure," she admitted. "Just try to keep a watch out, I guess. See if I can figure out what's going on." 

He decided to try and solve at least one of his problems. "I know you're not going to like this suggestion, but why not tell Michael about the note? He's the best at getting visions from things. Maybe he can sense who's behind all of this." 

"I just can't, Alex. He has his own problems. It's...it's too hard to see him every day in class as it is. I can't take any more." 

"Okay," he acquiesced. The faintest glimmer of an idea began to kindle in his brain. "So you would let Michael help you if he were himself again?" 

She thought for a moment. "Yeah, I guess." 

"Well then, all we have to do is fix him." 

Maria gave a small scream of frustration. "He won't let us help, remember?" 

Alex grinned. "He won't let _you_ help. I don't recall his ever telling _me_ not to help." 

An expression of hope crossed her face. "So do you think you can--" 

"Worth a try, isn't it?" He smiled as he considered things. Maria wanted Michael better before she would tell him about her stalker. Michael wanted Alex to help keep Maria out of danger. On the surface, they were playing at cross-purposes, but they really were just looking out for each other, weren't they? If he played things just right, maybe he could wangle an acceptable solution out of this whole mess.  
  


*****

Alex grinned as Michael approached from across the quad. He could almost feel opportunity pounding on his door. This might just be his chance to begin setting things right. "Come on, Mr. Spock. Come to Alex," he whispered. 

Michael did. He sat at the picnic table and gave his usual laconic greeting. "Hey." 

"What's up, Guerin?" asked Alex. 

"How did things go yesterday?" Michael asked, getting right to the point. "Did you see anything?" 

"Nope. All was quiet on the Maria front." 

Michael stared pensively at the tabletop. Alex offered him a barbecue chip, which he took and held, looking at it without really seeing it. 

"Barbecue chips are surprisingly good," commented Alex. "You'd probably like it, even without the Tabasco." Michael didn't seem to hear him. "Michael? You planning to join me here in the real world?" 

The alien looked up, startled. "What?" 

Alex laughed and said, "So, you going to eat that or keep it as a souvenir?" 

Michael followed Alex's gaze down to the chip in his hand. Wordlessly he placed it on the table, then said, "This isn't working." 

After a moment, Alex said, "I know you're going to explain eventually, so why not save us both some time and get on with it? What's not working?" 

"Maria. I can't protect her if I can't get near her," Michael said sullenly. "And she's not letting me." 

Aha. The moment was ripe for a friendly little trap. Now to lure him in. "So you need a good reason to be wherever Maria is?" 

"Yeah. And I don't have one." 

"I do," Alex said smugly. 

Michael leaned forward intently. "What?" 

"Not so fast, my Czechoslovakian friend. There are other things to be taken into consideration." The alien raised a questioning eyebrow. "For instance, if Maria is fixed on avoiding you--and we both know she is--then she won't be too happy if I give you an excuse to hang around." 

"Would you rather have her happy or safe?" came the terse response. 

"Ideally, both. But for now I'll settle for her not being furious with me. I've already seen what it's done for you. No thanks." 

"Alex," Michael said warningly. 

"Tell you what. I'll give you your excuse if you make it worth my while," suggested Alex, taking a swig of his root beer. 

Michael looked at him distrustfully. "What do you want?" 

"Let Isabel and Maria dreamwalk you." 

The reaction was swift and to the point. "No." 

"Fine," replied Alex with a shrug. "Then no excuses for you, my friend." 

"Come on, Whitman," Michael began. 

"Nope. Ain't gonna happen." 

Cursing under his breath, Michael ran his fingers through his spiky hair. "You don't understand. I can't do it." 

"Then neither can I." Alex looked thoughtfully at Michael. "You want Maria to be safe, don't you? If you would let her help you, she would be much more likely to allow you to hang around. Then you could do all the protecting, or whatever, you wanted." 

"Yeah, I want her safe. That's why I can't let her get into my head again. It's as dangerous in there as it is out here, and I can't protect her there. You don't get it. You can't." 

"Then explain it to me so I _can_ get it," said Alex firmly. 

"How can I explain it when I don't really understand it myself?" responded Michael dully. "Not that it's any different from the rest of my whole freaking life. I don't understand any of the rest, so why should I get this?" 

"Quit stalling and try. What's so dangerous about it?" 

Michael was silent as he gathered his thoughts. Finally he spoke. "It's not like I like the way things are. The way I am now. But it's not worth risking Maria, or Isabel, or any of you to get me back. And whenever I think about it, about Maria and Isabel going back in there...everything I am shouts no. It...well, lets just say it doesn't feel great, okay?" 

"It hurts you? Physically?" Alex queried. 

Michael ducked his head affirmatively. "The other Michael--the one in my head--doesn't want it. He can't allow it, I can feel that. But I don't know why." 

"Then maybe you need them to dreamwalk you so they can ask and find out." 

"I told you, it's too dangerous," the alien snapped. 

"Well, you're going to have to do something, Michael, because Maria isn't going to let you near enough to guard her unless you get yourself back together. So it's either the dreamwalk or trying to watch out for her from a distance. I guess it all boils down to one thing: which feels more dangerous to you: a walk inside your head, where she's already been, or whatever danger you're feeling from the real world? Then again, I suppose you could just warn her about the feelings you picked up from the sketch. If she were speaking with you, that is." 

Michael stood abruptly and turned away from Alex, gazing up at the sky. A moment passed, then Alex heard a broken "Dammit!" from the tall alien. Michael eventually sat back down, leaning his head in his hands. "Okay." 

"Okay? You agree to the dreamwalk?" asked Alex incredulously. Had his plan actually worked? 

"Yeah. But Max has to be with them when they do it. He can pull them out if...if something goes wrong," Michael instructed. 

"You've got it. We'll do it this weekend. I'll check everybody's schedules and coordinate the day," responded Alex. Michael nodded, and they sat for a few more minutes, each lost in his own thoughts. Michael's were considerably bleaker than Alex's. Finally, Alex spoke again. "So don't you want to know my plan to enable you to hang around Maria?" 

Michael looked at him, surprised. "I didn't think you'd tell me until after they dreamwalked." 

"Well, if all goes well with that, they'll figure out how to fix you up, you can mend your fences with Maria, and you won't need my excuse. So you can use it in the meantime." 

"But what if I back out?" 

"Hey, I trust you, man," Alex assured him. 

Michael blinked for a moment before he was able to utter a surprised, "Thanks." He looked acutely uncomfortable, and changed the subject brusquely. "So what's this great plan of yours?" 

Alex munched the last of his chips and said, "This is the plan. I've got to warn you, though. You're not going to like it..."  
  
TBC...  
  



	19. Masques: Chapter 19

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 19_

"Maria! Wait up!" cried Alex later that afternoon as he lugged his bass and amp down the hall from the band room. She paused, waiting for him to catch up. "Thanks," he panted. 

"No problem." 

"So, you decided to show up on time today, huh?" he teased. 

Maria responded in kind. "Well, seeing as no one tried to push me down any stairs, I figured the least I could do was show up." She almost skipped down the hallway. "It's going to be a good rehearsal today, Alex. I can feel it!" 

"Well, since you're busy anticipating good things, I'll give you something else to look forward to. Talk to me afterwards. I've got some news that you'll really like." 

"What? Tell me now!" she begged, her eyes dancing with curiosity. 

"Uh-uh. We're here. I've got to set up," he replied. "Get the door, will you?" 

Maria planted herself squarely in front of the doors to the auditorium. "Not until you tell me what's going on. Don't hold out on me!" 

Alex chided her. "Well, I _was_ going to tell you at lunch, but you were a no-show." 

"I was in the library doing research for my term paper. You can't penalize me for doing my homework; it isn't fair. C'mon, Alex, give!" 

"Patience, patience, DeLuca." 

Maria made a mental note to get Alex back for his teasing at the earliest possible opportunity, and then gave in gracefully, knowing that she would have the whole afternoon to plot her revenge. Swinging one of the doors open, she moved aside and held it for Alex and his equipment to pass through, her mind working busily. She frowned a little. Something was niggling at the back of her brain. Had she forgotten something? She double-checked her bag for her script and a pencil; it wasn't that. Was she supposed to have done something? She shook her head. Maybe if she didn't think about it, it would come to her. But she couldn't escape the nagging feeling that kept plucking at her attention... 

"Thanks, Maria," said Melanie as she and Pamela walked through the door that Maria was still holding open. Pamela shot her a superior look, as if to suggest that doorman was a job Maria was particularly suited to. Sighing, Maria followed them into the auditorium, determined to keep her spirits up. Yesterday's rehearsal had been rewarding--even if it wore her out--and she was hoping today's would be just as good. 

She hadn't made it three feet into the auditorium when she realized what that nagging little feeling actually was. Oh god. So much for a good rehearsal. Could her life get any worse? 

Carefully focusing on Alex, who was setting up his amp in front of the stage, she headed directly towards him without looking around. Catching him by the sleeve, she pulled him a few steps away from the rest of the combo and hissed, "Tell me it's not true. That what I think is happening is not happening." A hint of desperation colored her voice. "Because I don't think I can handle it." 

"It's okay," said Alex. "You can deal with this. You can handle it--you're the strongest person I know." 

Maria groaned and asked rhetorically, "Why is it that my life has to suck this badly?" Alex gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

"Just suck it up and get through the afternoon. We'll talk then and I'll tell you the good news, remember?" 

"It had better be more than good. It better be mind-bogglingly fantastic," she warned before turning resignedly to face the empty seats in front of her. Yep. There they were, standing in the side aisle by the twelfth row, deep in discussion. Ms. Bedinger and Michael Guerin. Maria watched as the teacher pointed out something in a sheaf of papers she'd handed Michael, talking in a low voice. Michael studied the papers for a moment and then nodded. Maria couldn't make out what they were saying, but she knew it couldn't be good. At least not for her peace of mind. 

"Can I have everyone's attention, please?" called the drama teacher, heading towards the stage. "Some of you may have heard that we've had a problem with the theater company that was renting us the Audrey II plants; they've reneged on our agreement. Obviously, Little Shop of Horrors is impossible to perform without the plant puppets. For the past few days, I've been scrambling to find a solution. Today I am happy to announce that I have one, and that the show will go on as scheduled. I'd like you all to give a round of applause to Michael Guerin who, with only three weeks to go, has volunteered his time and artistic talents to build them." Maria stood, shell-shocked, as the other company members broke out in applause. 

"Now since the full-size puppet will need to be worked with the most, I want to run Act II, scenes one and three, so Michael can get a good idea of what the plant will need to be able to do. Jon, since you're not on until the end of scene three, go with Megan and have a costume fitting. Be back in time for your scene. Okay, people, places." 

Maria was glued to the floor. She could barely breathe, much less move. It just wasn't fair! The one thing in her life that was Czechoslovakian-free, and now the jerk had to come along and foist himself off on her again. If she weren't ignoring his existence, she could just kill him. Painfully. And slowly. With knives, and an axe, and maybe an anvil like in the old Road Runner cartoons. A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her reverie. 

"Hang in there, Maria. Don't let this throw you," advised Alex quietly. 

"How could he do this to me?" she seethed. "Why did he have to horn in on the one thing in my life that was going really well? I don't get it, Alex. What could have possessed him?" Throwing up her hands, she headed for the stage, missing Alex's uncomfortable look and how he averted his eyes. Okay. She'd follow Alex's advice. She wouldn't let this bother her. She would focus on what she was supposed to be doing...and by god, she'd give the performance of her life. She would show that badly groomed, selfish, unmannered ex-boyfriend of hers just what Maria DeLuca was made of! 

What was in Act II scene one, anyway? She fumbled in her script for the correct page. Okay, it was 'Call Back in the Morning', and the scene with Mark and 'Suddenly Seymour', and 'Suppertime'... 

Wait a minute. The 'Suddenly Seymour' scene...An evil idea began to percolate in her brain. That was the scene that ended in the big clinch. Ha! She would show Mr. 'I Love You Too Much And Goodbye' what was what. Just what he was missing. And she would wager that, no matter what he was or wasn't feeling, he missed kissing her. He was too good at it not to enjoy it, wasn't he? He _was_ really good at it, and he had to be a natural; it's not like he'd been swimming in girlfriends to practice on before she came along. Not that she'd had all that much opportunity before Michael, but she'd had _some_. Nobody else could compare to him, though. Darn it! She had to get him out of her system. 

"Maria? We're waiting for you." She looked guiltily up at Mark. 

"Sorry, I was just trying to...trying to get into character," she said in a rush. He grinned at her and took his place at the makeshift counter for the opening of the act. She followed suit, but not before sneaking a peek into the auditorium. Michael was sitting towards the back, flipping through the script and design sketches Ms. Bedinger had given him. Did he even know what Little Shop of Horrors was about? She didn't think he'd seen the movie. Was he ever in for a surprise...Then her music cue began, and she became Audrey.  
  


*****

Alex glanced up from his music to watch Maria on stage. She was really good, he noted without surprise. She'd done well in rehearsal yesterday, but something today had lit a fire within her. He was pretty sure what it was, too. Glancing to his left, he caught Michael out of the corner of his eye. The alien was sitting, mesmerized, as Maria put her whole heart into the song. Focusing once again on his music, Alex mentally congratulated himself. This had been an excellent idea. Now if the whole dreamwalking thing would just work so that they could all concentrate on Maria's problem... 

The duet wound to a big finish and Alex suddenly swallowed. He'd either forgotten or hadn't realized what was about to happen. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. He watched as Mark took Maria--no, as _Seymour_ took _Audrey_ into his arms and kissed her. Ouch. He forced himself to look back into the house, towards Michael. The alien was staring fixedly at the seat in front of him, hands gripping the papers he held tightly. Way too tightly, Alex could tell, even at a distance. 

Looking back up at the stage, he noted with surprise that the pair was still in a clinch. Okay. That was enough. If that guy didn't stop mauling his friend, he was going to have to take matters into his own hands. If only to save the actor from the wrath of Michael Guerin, Power Ranger. 

Alex gave a sigh of relief as Dennis Cooper finally entered the stage and gave the next line, causing the embracing couple to break apart. Thank god. Maria had told him that, unlike the movie, the stage play ended tragically, with everyone dead, so maybe he would be spared any more of watching his friend swapping spit with Mark Blumenthal. It had been weird enough the few times he'd seen her and Michael together, but at least that felt right, somehow. This was just...wrong. 

Noticing that Dennis was getting ready to do his bit of stage business with the bloody dentist's uniform, Alex turned the page in his music and got ready to play the next number.  
  


*****

Maria peered out of the wings into the house. Since they weren't using the stage lighting yet, she could clearly see Michael. Ms. Bedinger had moved to where he sat, and was gesturing towards the stage as Mark and Brian sang 'Suppertime'. She was probably explaining all the necessary stage action. Michael would probably get the idea fairly quickly. He was very bright, even though he didn't like to show it. And she had to admit that he might very well make great plant puppets. He was good with his hands, after all. Ruthlessly she pushed her next thought back out of her head. No, she wasn't thinking of _that_. She just meant that he'd done a good job on the napkin holder he'd made her last year. That was all. Yeah, that was convincing, DeLuca. 

Watching the pair talk, she wondered what he'd thought while she was on stage. He'd missed The Whits' performance during Liz's blind date, so he'd never really heard her sing before. And somehow she knew she'd never sung better than she had just a few minutes ago. It had seemed almost effortless. 

Michael pulled a pencil stub from his jacket pocket and made a few marks on the pages in front of him before turning them towards Ms. Bedinger. Maria watched absorbedly as the teacher seemed to ask something; Michael shook his head in response and turned the page over, drawing on the back of it with firm strokes. After a moment, he handed it to Ms. Bedinger, who studied it and then smiled warmly at him, nodding as she spoke. Huh. It looked like Michael was making a hit with the teacher, improving on her plant designs. She had known that he'd be good at this. 

A feeling of pride welled up inside her until she caught herself smiling. Tearing her eyes away from her ex-boyfriend, she looked rather wildly around the room, hoping no one had caught her staring. Unfortunately, someone had. At least it was only Alex, although that didn't keep her from reddening under his amused gaze. Fantastic. She stepped further back into the wings, out of sight, and leaned against the wall. She could get through this rehearsal. No problem. Only two more hours to go.  
  


*****

"Don't feed the plants!" sang the Little Shop cast in harmony, finishing the show's last scene for the third time that afternoon. Holding their positions on the stage, they looked expectantly at Ms. Bedinger. 

"Good work," she said. "We need to spend a little more time polishing Audrey and Seymour's death scenes, and I'd like to re-block the end of the show, but that will all wait until we have the plant to work with. Other than that, we're in pretty good shape on these sections of the show. So go home and look over your lines for Act II Scene 2; we'll start there tomorrow." Turning to the dark figure hunched in a seat near the back of the auditorium, she continued, "Michael? A word with you, please." 

The adrenaline that had carried Maria through the rehearsal drained away without warning, leaving her feeling quite shaky. She sank down onto the edge of the stage, her feet dangling into the orchestra pit, and watched Alex unplug his bass from the amp. To think that she'd felt tired after yesterday's rehearsal. That had been a day at Disneyland compared to today. A broken ankle was starting to look pretty good. Would Max be willing to un-heal? 

"Pretty great of Guerin to step in," Mark said from behind her. "Does he actually know anything about theater?" 

Maria let out a sarcastic little snort. "I very much doubt it." 

"Interesting that he should suddenly volunteer. Did you talk him into it?" 

She turned her head in astonishment. Where had he gotten that idea? "No way! I didn't even know there was a problem in the first place. Did you?" 

"Yeah, Melanie and Pamela were talking about it yesterday. The theatrical company double-booked the plants or something." He looked out at Michael, who was conferring with Ms. Bedinger. "Look, we need the plant puppets as soon as possible so we can get used to using them, and I know making them is a huge project. So tell Guerin to let me know if he needs any help. I'll round some guys up." 

"What? I am not his social secretary," Maria said harshly. "Tell him yourself." 

Mark looked at her in surprise. "I would, but he's kind of busy right now," he pointed out, gesturing at the pair deep in discussion. "And he's _your_ weird friend, remember?" He gave her a sly grin. "Besides, something tells me he's not too pleased with me right now." 

"What? I...he...What do you mean?" she sputtered. 

"Just give him the message, okay?" He leaned down to ruffle her hair and walked away. 

Somehow Maria found the strength to rise to her feet and shout indignantly at Mark's retreating back. "You can do it yourself, you lazy bum!" His amused laugh floated back to her ears, but he continued on his way. 

Maria looked around to find a number of interested--and two suspicious--eyes focused on her. The suspicious pair flickered away as she met them, leaving her feeling suddenly very cold. In an attempt to hide her uneasiness, she turned to Alex, who had finished packing up, and gifted him with a particularly brilliant smile. "All ready?" she asked a trifle too cheerfully. 

Alex nodded and picked up his equipment. "I've just got to drop the amp off in the band room. Mr. Lewis said I could leave it there overnight." 

Together, they headed up the aisle, Maria chattering madly about nothing in particular. Unfortunately, her careful plan to escape the auditorium without having to acknowledge Michael was put on hold. "Maria?" Ms. Bedinger said. "One moment, please." The girl turned and looked inquisitively at the director, very aware of Michael towering over the woman, unfortunately well within the scope of Maria's peripheral vision. 

"I'll go stash this stuff and meet you in the hallway," offered Alex as he continued towards the doors. 

"I've got a drama major from UNM coming in next week to do the hair and makeup design for the show. I'll want her to work with you; we want to achieve a real period look here, and she'll need to see what she's got to work with." 

Maria nodded, saying, "Sure." Dismissed, she carefully avoided looking over the teacher's shoulder and turned to follow Alex's path to the back of the house. As she went, she could hear Ms. Bedinger resume her discussion with Michael, who responded in a low, halting voice. 

In the hallway, she waited tiredly for Alex to reappear from the band room, and together they walked out to the parking lot. Climbing into the Jetta, they sat staring out the windshield at the empty lot around them. Finally Alex spoke. 

"You did good in there, 'Ria." He shifted in his seat, turning towards her. "I'm sorry it was so hard on you." 

Maria replied softly, "Yeah. It was." 

In an effort to cheer her, he went on, "Maybe you need this kind of pressure more often." She raised angry eyes to his, and he continued, "I just mean that it provoked one hell of a performance. You were great." 

Maria's expression lightened and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Thanks." 

"Although I could do without the tournament-length kissing scene," Alex mused. 

"That was not my fault!" Maria protested. Catching his knowing eye, she continued, "Well, not entirely. I mean, Dennis really _was_ late for his cue. I didn't mean for it to go on that long." 

"If it makes you feel any better, I think it had the desired effect." 

Maria tried to play dumb for a moment, but her knew her too well to fall for it. Exasperated, she burst out, "Okay, so I wanted to show him up. I admit it." 

"And do you feel any better about it?" 

"No. I just feel...well, kind of slimy actually," she groaned. Alex patted her shoulder in sympathy. 

"Don't worry about it. It's in the past. And we do have something else to discuss." 

She attempted to look enthused. "Oh yeah. The way my day is going, you're probably going to tell me I only have three weeks to live. Which might not seem so bad, when you think about it." 

Alex eyed her carefully, then asked, "What do you want most right this minute?" 

"You mean besides twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep? And a giant Acme anvil?" 

"Yep." 

"Well, duh, for Michael to be his old, complicated, annoying self again." She paused, then snorted, "As opposed to his _new_, complicated, annoying self." 

Alex grinned triumphantly. "Well, I think we may be on the right track." 

She sat upright. "What do you mean?" 

"He agreed to let you and Isabel dreamwalk him." 

"Stop kidding around," she crabbed. 

"I'm not kidding. I asked; he said yes." 

"He did? When? How? What did you do to him?" she burbled, an expression of hope mixed with joy and uncertainty blooming across her face. The questions came faster than Alex could answer them. Finally he was able to break in. 

"I just reasoned with him, that's all." 

"You reasoned with Michael?" she laughed happily. "I didn't know he was capable of that. No, it has to be some sort of spell. Or hypnosis. Can aliens be hypnotized?" 

"Calm down. I talked to the others, and we're set for Saturday night, if that works for you." 

"Of course it works for me. Even if it didn't, I'd make it work," she exclaimed. "I'm on a double shift at the Crashdown, but we wouldn't be able to start until he's asleep, anyway. What's the plan--another slumber party?" 

"Yes, but this time I won't have to sneak through the window. Mr. & Mrs. Evans are going to be in Phoenix for the weekend, and Max and Isabel each have permission to have a few friends over. As long as we don't trash the place." 

"Oh my god, Alex, I can't believe it!" she cried, practically chortling with joy. "I never thought he'd agree. It's so unlike him." She tensed suddenly. "It is unlike him, isn't it? It's not true. It's all a plot to drive me insane, and you're in on it." 

Alex rolled his eyes, Isabel-style. "It's not a plot. If you don't believe me, then ask the source." He gestured to the school, where Michael was emerging from the building. She sat frozen for a minute. "Go ahead," he prodded. 

After one moment of hesitation, the car door was flung open and a blond pixie was tearing back across the parking lot. With a happy laugh, Maria flung her arms around the unprepared alien, who dropped the papers and script he was holding and tried to maintain his balance. 

"Michael!" she cried. "I can't believe you said it was okay! That's wonderful! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Tightening her arms around him, she held on for dear life. 

She was still clinging to him a moment later when she noticed that he wasn't clinging back. Indeed, he was standing stiffly, looking upwards with a resigned expression on his face. 

Pulling back slightly, she asked, "Michael? When we dreamwalk you we'll be able to get you fixed up. Aren't you happy? Isn't that what you wanted?" 

Michael continued to gaze upward, saying coldly, "If I had wanted you dreamwalking me, I would've agreed to it the first time." 

She began to protest. "But--" 

"Don't worry, I'll do it. I told Alex I would, and I will. But until then, I've got a lot of work to do. So why don't you let me do it, all right?" 

Startled, she dropped her arms and took a step backward. He didn't look at her, instead crouching to gather the fallen papers. For a moment she thought he would just walk away, but finally he looked down at the things in his hands and opened his mouth to speak. She held her breath, half in fear and half in anticipation. 

"Look," he said roughly, as if his vocal chords were unused to working, "for what it's worth, you're really good. In the play." Maria's mouth fell open and she struggled to stammer out a coherent response. 

"Th..thanks." 

Michael's mouth worked as if he were about to speak again. Instead, he pressed his lips together firmly and looked off into the distance. Finally, without looking at her, he said brusquely, "See ya," and took off down the sidewalk. Maria stood in confusion, watching him go. 

This had been a very bizarre afternoon. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it. But deep inside her was a growing warm, comforting sensation, as if her soul was at peace. A smile of genuine happiness spread across her lips. Everything was going to be all right. She could feel it.  
  
TBC...  
  



	20. Masques: Chapter 20

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 20_

The next few days passed interminably for Maria. She got up, went to school and sat through class, her mind only half on what the teachers were saying. The rest of her mind was usually on Michael and the upcoming dreamwalk. It wasn't helped by his sudden devotion to dogging her footsteps. Suddenly, she could almost always feel him nearby. She didn't necessarily see him, but she knew he was there. The only time she was really able to focus on things was at rehearsal. After his unexpected appearance there on Wednesday, Michael hadn't shown back up in the auditorium. Alex had said he was probably in the shop room, working on building the plants, but who knew for sure? She'd gotten so used to feeling Michael around at unexpected moments; now she found she missed that little tingle during play practice. 

She'd even had the feeling he was nearby when she woke up this morning, but when she peered out her window, there was no one to be seen. By the time she'd started her double shift at the Crashdown, the feeling had disappeared. 

Sighing, she carried a tray of burgers over to a table and served them with a smile. Heading back to the counter, she asked Alex if he wanted another refill on his drink. Filling his glass, she placed it back in front of him and asked suspiciously, "Okay, Alex. What's going on? It's now 4:37, and you've been here since I came on duty at 11:00. When Isabel and Max left after lunch, how come you stayed on?" 

He looked at her calmly and said, "I'm just killing time until Liz finishes her shift." 

"Oh," she said, somewhat mollified. "She gets off at 5:00." 

"I know. We're going to head over to Isabel and Max's. Get things ready for tonight." 

Maria nodded. "I wish this day would hurry up and end. I'll be over there as soon as I can after we close up." 

"You're driving, right?" 

"No, my mom needed the car today," she began. 

Alex said sternly, "Well, you shouldn't be walking around town by yourself at night. Not when there's someone out there who doesn't seem to like you." 

"Hey, I never said I was walking. I already talked to Isabel; I'll give her a call when I'm done and she'll come pick me up," Maria said before she turned around in response to José's bell. "Got to go. More food to serve." 

About forty minutes later, Liz, now dressed in street clothes, headed over to the counter where Maria was preparing an Alien Blast. "I'm off," she announced. "You ready, Alex?" 

The teen took one last sip of his root beer before climbing off the stool and joining Liz. He reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Liz forestalled him with a smile. "It's on the house, Alex." 

"Thanks," he said. Turning to Maria, he said, "We'll see you later. Be careful, all right?" 

She snorted. "And what exactly could happen to me here? What, do you think the alien decorations are going to come to life and abduct me?" 

"Yes, that's exactly what I foresee," he joked. "Only it'll only be one. And she'll be driving a Jeep. You can expect her in about six hours." 

She pretended to threaten him with the milkshake glass she was holding, and he ducked behind Liz in mock fear. Liz shook her head and pulled him out of the café. Maria laughed at their antics and watched them go. 

They hadn't been out of her sight for three minutes when Maria felt it again. Michael was around. She didn't see him, of course, but she knew he was nearby. For a moment she was pleased, but then she began to contemplate the strangeness of the situation. Why did he persist on being near her, but just out of sight? He _knew_ she could feel him; was he purposely trying to annoy her, or what? As she served the milkshake, her mind was busy working. Forget whoever was sending her the notes, she already had a stalker. He was around all the time. She could swear he was even somewhere near her house at night. Well, most of the time, and when he wasn't, Alex-- 

She stopped dead in her tracks. Whenever Michael wasn't around, Alex was. What was going on? Her mind flashed to the notes she'd gotten. Alex knew about them, but Michael didn't. Well, the sketch, yes, but not the other note or her fall down the stairs. And Alex wouldn't have broken his promise and told him about it, she was sure of it. She ground her teeth. On top of everything else, it looked like she was going to have to have a little talk with those two... 

The next six hours or so didn't pass any more quickly than the preceding two and a half days, but finally the restaurant was closed and Maria could change out of her uniform. She jumped when a knock came on the back door, but relaxed as she heard Isabel call, "Maria? Are you ready?" Grabbing the things she'd packed for overnight, she hurried to the door and swung it open, greeting Isabel. She followed the taller girl to the nearby Jeep and threw her things into the back, but didn't climb in. 

"Maria, I can't drive you anyplace if you don't get in the Jeep," Isabel pointed out. 

"Just a minute," Maria insisted, and then raised her voice. "Michael? We're leaving now. If you want a ride, you'd better make an appearance." 

There was no movement in the alleyway, and she huffed, "I know you're there; I can feel it, remember?" Another moment of silence, with Isabel eyeing her appraisingly. Then a figure detached itself from the shadows in the corner and wordlessly climbed into the back seat. 

"Hello to you, too, Michael," said Isabel, turning in the driver's seat to look at him. He gave a grunt in reply. "Need a ride to your place?" 

"Oh, no," insisted Maria as she got in. "He agreed to this dreamwalk, and I am going to make sure he does it. He can sleep just as well in Max's room as he can on that lumpy old couch of his." 

Isabel looked at him in the rearview mirror. When he didn't say anything, she shrugged and started the Jeep for a quick--and very silent--trip back to the Evanses'.  
  
  
  


Max, Alex and Liz were waiting in the family room for their arrival. They seemed surprised when the girls entered with Michael in tow, but saw the determined look on Maria's face and didn't comment. 

"Okay, let's get started," Maria ordered. "Michael, go to sleep." He looked silently at her for a few moments, then around the room resignedly. 

Max took pity on him. "Give him a little time, Maria. We don't have to be in such a hurry." She opened her mouth to protest, but he went on, "Hungry, Michael?" 

The spiky-haired alien growled, "No. Let's get this over with." 

"Aha!" cried Maria triumphantly, almost dancing in place. "See, Max? He's tired. He's _wants_ to go to sleep." 

Michael looked at her in disbelief and shook his head slightly, but turned his attention back to Max when he spoke. "Why don't you crash in my room?" Max suggested. "The rest of us will be in Isabel's, so you can use the bed instead of the sleeping bag." With an abrupt nod, Michael headed out of the room. 

The others sat down, Maria glancing repeatedly at the doorway where Michael had disappeared. 

"Give the guy a break," Alex said. "You don't just fall asleep on command." 

"I know that," she shot back. "I'm just anxious, that's all." 

Isabel decided to play hostess. "Why don't we head into the kitchen and get a snack? We can watch TV or something for a while. Relax until he's asleep." 

The others agreed, and followed her from the room. They settled back down a little while later, with drinks and munchies in hand. Max turned on the TV with its sound down low and idly flipped through the channels. 

"Warm milk!" said Maria suddenly. "My mom always used to make me warm milk when I couldn't sleep. I'd be out like a light. Let's make some for Michael." 

"My mom does that, too," mused Alex. "But she puts a shot of brandy in hers." 

"We do _not_ want to give Michael any brandy," warned Isabel. "We can't handle alcohol, remember?" 

Everyone looked at Max, who reddened and then spoke. "It's only been fifteen minutes, anyway. Give him a chance. He's not used to sleeping this early." 

"It's almost 11:30. That was about when we dreamwalked him the first time," commented Alex. "And somehow I don't think he's gotten a whole lot of sleep since then, either. He still looks beat." 

Maria muttered something unintelligible under her breath. Of course Michael looked beat. He was hanging around her house at all hours of the night, wasn't he? Setting her glass down with a thump on one of Mrs. Evans's coasters, she said, "I'll be back in a minute," and headed out of the room. 

"She's probably just gone to get some air," she heard Liz say as she headed to the door. Liz knew her so well. Sitting on the front stoop, she looked up at the night sky. She'd never really studied it, not before finding out about Max, Michael and Isabel; but since then she'd spent many hours staring up and wondering. About their home, about where they'd come from, about the family Michael had once had. As much as it scared her that the three of them would leave, it gave her comfort, too, knowing how much Michael needed to know where he belonged. And as much as she wanted him with her, she knew that he had to find that place, a place where he was at home. Content. Where he could allow himself to love someone, and be loved back. But first he needed to be whole again... 

Sighing, she took one last look at the stars and headed quietly back inside. Ignoring the voices coming from the family room, she moved towards Max's room, trying not to make a sound. She'd just peek in on him and see how he was doing. 

Reaching the door, she put her ear against it, listening. No sound from within. She reached out and eased the door open a crack. Just enough light filtered in from the hall to allow her to make out the still form on the bed. He'd taken his shoes off and lain back, his hands folded across his stomach. He didn't move. Silently she moved to the foot of the bed, picking up the quilt that was folded across it and draping it over him, tucking it gently under his chin as she used to do with her dolls. 

"I'd have a better chance of falling asleep if you'd stop bugging me," he informed her dryly, his eyes still closed. "Go sniff some oil or something and leave me alone." 

She flushed. "How did you know it was me?" 

"I've slept in Max's room a lot, and believe me, he isn't the tucking-in type." 

"But I could've been Isabel, or Liz." 

"But you weren't." 

"But--" 

He opened his eyes and narrowed them at her. "If you want me to be able to do this, then go away," he said coldly. Biting her lip, she moved to the doorway, looking back to see his eyes once more closed. She shut the door softly behind her, smiling softly. He might not have been aware of it, but he'd clutched the blanket she'd placed over him as if he'd never been tucked in before. Well, maybe he hadn't. A sad expression crossed her face. "Sweet dreams," she whispered, and then headed back down the hall.  
  
TBC...  
  



	21. Masques: Chapter 21

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 21_

"I'm not sure I like this," Maria heard as she approached the Evanses' family room. "We still don't know enough. It could be dangerous." 

"You don't know that, Max," his sister pointed out evenly. "Maria, Alex and I agree it's the right thing to do. Even Michael agreed to it. We're going to do it so why don't you stop coming up with reasons we shouldn't, and help? Maria and I can do this. Trust us." 

"It's not that," Max said with a frown. "I do trust you. I just don't like taking foolish risks. I don't want you to get hurt. Any of you." 

"We won't," Isabel assured him. "I won't let it happen." 

"I can't believe Michael actually agreed to it. He was so adamant about it before," mused Liz. "How on earth did you talk him into it, Alex?" 

"Yes, Alex, how did you?" asked Maria from the doorway. 

"Oh, let's just say that he fell victim to my powers of persuasion," replied Alex glibly. He could tell by looking at her that this answer wasn't enough. "Seriously, we just talked about the situation, and he decided to go ahead with it." Maria gave him a stern look, and he continued, "That's all you're getting from me. You want more, you'll have to get Michael to tell you." 

Maria let out a huff of exasperation. "Like I could get him to do anything he didn't want to. Some of us don't have your 'powers of persuasion'," she mocked. 

Isabel turned a considering eye upon her. "So was he asleep?" she asked. 

"How did you..." Maria flushed. "Okay, so I checked on him. No. He wasn't." 

"Uh-huh." 

"But he will be soon, I'm sure of it. He wants our help. Anyway, he promised Alex," Maria said. She didn't really convince anyone. 

Alex spoke, his voice soothing. "That he did." 

"Then all we need to do is wait," put in Liz. 

"We can do that," said Alex cheerfully. "Got a deck of cards?"  
  


*****

Liz crowed as she laid down her three of a kind and swept up the pile of M&Ms with which they'd been wagering. "It's a good thing we're not playing for money," Isabel told her. "Who knew you were such a card shark?" 

"I did," said Alex, who'd long since folded. "But it passed the time, didn't it?" 

"Sure it did," said Isabel, motioning with a small nod of the head to Maria, who was tensely pacing in the corner. "Maybe we should try the dreamwalk now." 

Alex considered the situation. "Well, since he's right here in the house, it'll be easy enough to tell if he's asleep. Does he snore?" 

"No," said Max and Maria simultaneously. Maria turned red as four very interested pairs of eyes focused on her. "It was just the one night," she protested. "Before he was emancipated. All we did was sleep." 

Max went on smoothly, "But he gets nightmares. He doesn't exactly sleep easy. It shouldn't be too difficult to tell if he's out or not." 

"You check on him," suggested Isabel. "You're used to his sleep patterns. The rest of us will head into my room and get ready." The humans and an alien quietly moved into Isabel's bedroom. Maria immediately went to lie stiffly down on the bed, in the same spot from which she'd dreamwalked the last time. 

Alex grinned and took his place on Isabel's desk chair. "You're not at all impatient, are you?" 

Maria gave him a disgruntled look and settled deeper into the pillow. "I'm just ready, that's all." She sat upright, however, when they heard voices coming from outside Isabel's room. "What now?" she said, getting up and stalking to the doorway. Max was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, talking in a low voice to...Michael? She pushed past Max in a fury. 

"You! Why are you not asleep?" she shouted at Michael, who was sitting up on the bed. "It's been hours! The rest of us are tired; why aren't you?" 

He refused to look at her. "I've been trying." 

"You have not tried! If you had, you would have done it!" She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down onto the bed. He sat back up the moment she let go of him. 

"It's not that easy," he complained. 

"It never is with you, is it?" she hissed. "So tell me why, Michael. Why isn't it easy? I know you're tired. You look like hell, and I know you've been up at night hanging around my house all week, so why can't you fall asleep? And exactly why were you hanging around, anyway, you stalker?" 

From the hall, Alex began, "Maria, if you--" 

"You're one to talk, Alex! If it's not Michael nearby, it's you. Do you two think I'm stupid? That I wouldn't notice? I want answers!" she raged, once again pushing Michael into a reclining position. "And I want you to go to sleep, dammit, and I want things to be right!" With that, the tension and pent-up emotion she'd been feeling came to a crest and she burst into angry tears, collapsing onto his chest. Liz began to move towards her, but stopped as Max put a hand up and motioned for the others to leave. Michael, looking completely trapped, raised his head off the pillow to stare helplessly at Max, who shrugged. 

"You did it," he said calmly. "You fix it. This is one mess I'm not cleaning up for you, Michael. You can handle this one on your own." 

"Do you think that was a good idea?" asked Liz in the safety of Isabel's room. 

"We had to do something. Maria was so tense it hurt to look at her. She's got to relax, or Isabel won't be able to pull her into the dreamwalk," Max explained. "If Maria can get through to him, she'll calm down. Or they'll kill each other. Either way, it's got to be better than having them constantly at loggerheads." 

Alex let out an amazed whistle. "Very sneaky, Max. I never knew you had it in you." 

"Well, someone's got to take charge of these things," Max replied with a slow smile.  
  


*****

Inside Max's room, things were not going too well for Michael. He lay still for a moment, wishing he were someplace, _anyplace_, else, where he didn't have to hear Maria's sobs. Where for once he hadn't hurt her. Finally he put his arms up and awkwardly patted her back. "Hey," he said. "Don't. It's not worth it." 

"It is to me," she managed to get out, her cheek pressed to his chest. He continued to hold her, one hand gingerly making gentle circles on her back, all the while heaping mental curses on himself. 

"It shouldn't be," he insisted softly. 

Maria raised her head and wiped the back of her hand across her reddened eyes. "Well, it is. You can't arbitrarily change the way I feel about you. It doesn't work that way. If you could, I never would have fallen in love with you in the first place." 

"You didn't." 

"I think I can be trusted to know my own feelings!" she said angrily, sitting up. 

"No, the guy you think you're in love with isn't me. He's someone else." His hands fell back to the bed. "I'm not even a real person. I don't know what I am." 

Maria scooted closer, leaning over him. "You are real," she said firmly. "You're part of him, or he's part of you, or something. Whichever way it is doesn't matter. If I love him, then I love you. It's one and the same." She peered into his dark unfathomable eyes, wishing she could make him understand. "You drive me absolutely insane, but it doesn't change things. I love you," she repeated, and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. 

She pulled back and watched the doubt and confusion in his eyes. Feeling very uncomfortable, he broke their gaze and unconsciously dropped his eyes to linger on her lips, which began to twitch in amusement. Her amusement faded into something quite different as his eyes darkened and he reached up a tentative hand to stroke the tearstains from her cheek. His other hand came up to frame the other side of her face, and looking into her eyes he began to slowly pull her down to him... 

...only to stop with a muffled curse, her lips scant inches from his. 

"Michael?" she questioned. 

He took her by the shoulders and set her gently but firmly aside, then rose from the bed and padded over to the window. He stared out at the night, unseeing. 

"Tease," she muttered. He didn't appear to hear her. 

Maria watched, wide-eyed, as he fought an inner struggle with himself. Finally something seemed to come over him, and he straightened up to his full height. Not knowing who or what had won, she braced herself for whatever would happen. 

What did happen was that he turned and strode out of the room. Anger mixed with panic rose in Maria. He wasn't leaving, was he? Then she realized that his worn boots were still on the floor at the foot of Max's bed, and she breathed more easily. She scurried out of the room, following Michael's path. 

"It's not working," she heard him say gruffly. "I can't do it." She walked into Isabel's room to see Liz sharing a concerned glance with the others. 

"Of course you can," the petite brunette assured him. "You just need the right circumstances. Is the room too dark? Too warm?" 

"No," he said ungraciously. 

"Have you tried counting sheep? Or spaceships? How about giant man-eating plant puppets?" asked Alex irrepressibly. The alien gave him a disgusted look and didn't deign to answer. 

"What about some sort of relaxation technique?" suggested Liz. "Meditation or something." Alex chuckled at the mental image this created, but cut it short at Michael's terse reply. 

"It doesn't matter. None of that will work." 

"You mean you don't want it to work," Maria accused from the doorway. He turned to look at her. 

"No, I don't. But I said I'd do it, and I'm trying." 

"This is not trying! This is lying in the dark and sulking, that's what this is!" she shot back. 

"Okay, I guess we're going for the 'killing each other' scenario," Alex heard Max say under his breath. 

Maria looked wildly about the room before focusing on its owner. "Isabel! Does he _have_ to be asleep for you to dreamwalk him? Does unconscious count? Because right now I would be more than happy to personally knock him into oblivion!" 

"Maria," Liz said warningly, but was ignored by the two combatants. 

"Go right ahead," challenged Michael in an icy voice. "I'd rather be unconscious than have to deal with this." 

"Don't tempt me!" hissed Maria. 

"_Stop it!_" 

Five pairs of eyes turned to an infuriated Isabel. "You," she said, pointing at Maria, "over there. Sit. And you," turning to Michael, "stop telling us what won't work and help us figure out what will." Maria abashedly took a seat on the bed and Michael ducked his head and stared at the floor. Alex was impressed. 

"Okay," said Isabel into the quiet, "Now let's work together, shall we? Michael." He raised his head. "You're having trouble getting to sleep, even though you're tired. You _are_ tired, right?" A nod. "I thought so. Then we have something to work with. How did you fall asleep last night?" 

"Didn't," he muttered. 

She gave him an appraising look. That explained a lot. "Well then, the night before." No answer except a shake of the head. "Before that?" She looked around the room and then back at the scowling figure by the door. "Michael, when was the last time you slept?" 

"I don't know. A week, a week and a half," he answered in a low voice. 

A concerned furrow appeared in Isabel's forehead. "Michael! You can't function without sleep." 

"I'm not human. I don't need sleep," he insisted obstinately. Isabel turned to the others in frustration. 

"Somebody help me out here!" she said. Alex, who had a pretty fair idea of what Michael had been doing instead of sleeping, kept his mouth shut. 

Liz spoke up. "Why haven't you been sleeping? Because you can't?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, but answered. "I've got things to do." 

"What could be so important that you would go without sleep for so long?" Isabel cried in distress. "For that matter, how are you still on your feet? Why haven't you collapsed? Passed out?" 

Michael gave her a disgusted look wordlessly making it quite clear that guys, even human-alien hybrid guys, do not pass out. Isabel rolled her eyes in frustration. 

Liz continued the questioning. "What's keeping you so busy? How can we help?" 

He looked at her in mild surprise for a moment. "You can't." 

"Why don't you let us be the judge of that?" asked Max. "You've got school, and the gas station. Can't cut down on those. Knowing you, I doubt you're spending much time on homework. So what else is there?" 

Michael looked around uneasily and clamped his mouth shut. Deciding to try and help him out, Alex said, "There's the whole plant thing. For the show." 

"So speed up the building process by using your powers," suggested Isabel. 

Michael swallowed. "I can't." 

"Yes, you can," she said in support. "You can do a lot more than you think you can." 

"No. I can't," he pronounced decidedly. 

From her position on the bed, Maria spoke. "Does this have to do with the whole napkin holder thing? It's okay, Michael. Forget what I said then, you can cheat on this one. Wave your hand and make the problem go away. We give you blanket permission." 

Michael ran an unsteady hand through his already tousled hair. "What part of 'I can't' do you people not understand?" Putting his right hand out, he closed his eyes in concentration. Not wanting to be fried to a crisp, the five ducked out of the path his hand delineated. They watched as he struggled to use his powers, to do something, anything, even if only to blow up part of Isabel's room. A sweat broke out on his forehead. Nothing. Finally he let his hand drop back to his side and opened his eyes. "Do you get it now? No powers. They're gone. I can't do anything." 

There was silence in the room as the others tried to absorb this news. Finally, Liz spoke. "I'm sorry, Michael." He shrugged and tried to look like he didn't care. None of them were fooled. 

Alex cleared his throat. "Well, your powers may not be an option, but your friends are. We can help. Granted, some of us aren't very artistic--" Maria snorted. "But we'll do what we can." 

Maria piped up. "Tell Mark Blumenthal you need help. He said he'd round some guys up." 

Michael stiffened. "I don't need help. I can do it myself." 

"Yes, at the expense of sleep, health and sanity!" she shot back. "Oh, I forgot, you only had two of those to begin with. God, Michael, what are you trying to prove?" 

Trying to diffuse the situation, Max said, "Okay, you won't ask for help with the plants. But still, school, work and building them can't possibly be taking twenty-four hours a day. What else are you doing?" 

Once again, Michael clamped his mouth shut. "He's stalking me, that's what," Maria burst out. 

He looked up at the ceiling and refused to respond. 

"Go on, admit it!" she said. "You know I can tell when you're around. Which is practically all the time, you...you _stalker_." 

His jaw clenched. "I am not stalking you." 

"Oh yeah? Well, what do _you_ call it then?" 

"Maria," Alex began. 

"Oh no, don't you start with me, Alex. You're just as bad. If E.T. here isn't around, you are. And I want to know why. Right now." 

Alex looked at Michael, a question in his eyes. Michael, stony-faced, did not assent. Alex sighed. "I'd explain it to you if I could, Maria. I would. But I made a promise not to, and I can't break it." 

"That's just great. Like we can't guess who made you promise." Maria crossed over and stood directly in front of Michael. She looked up at him defiantly. "And I suppose you're too busy building your relatives to explain?" 

His hands clenched and he said through gritted teeth, "Be very grateful I can't use my powers any more." 

Isabel, who had watched the argument escalate, said suddenly, "But you can. Or at least you did, when we went into Maria's dream. You and the other Michael used your powers to break a hole in the invisible wall." 

"Well, I can't do it now," he said bitterly. 

Maria caught her breath. "Of course you can't. And the other Michael--when he tried to use his powers, they backfired on him, and he got hurt. It took the two of you together to make them work. You need each other." 

"Max, do you think--?" Michael asked hesitantly. 

"Maybe. It makes sense, anyway," he answered. 

"So there's yet another reason to dreamwalk you and help you pull yourself together!" cried Maria triumphantly. "You want your powers back, don't you? You'll need them to fight off the evil aliens and all that. Well, suck it up, Michael Guerin, and go to sleep already." 

She turned to the people around her and began issuing orders. "Isabel, go heat some milk. We'll give my mom's remedy a try. Max, go turn the TV off; we need quiet. Liz, fluff up his pillow. I want it nice and plump. Alex, you're the musician, start thinking up lullabies." Nobody moved. "Let's get hopping, people! We're on a mission. Operation 'Get Michael Back Now' is underway." 

Michael looked down at her, a disgruntled look on his face. "And just what are you going to do?" 

She smiled saucily back up at him. "Why, tuck you back in, of course." 

He groaned. "Max? Be a buddy and clock me one, will you? Unconsciousness is sounding better all the time."  
  
TBC...  
  



	22. Masques: Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22 

Surprisingly, the group began to follow Maria's commands. Well, except for Michael. Reaching out an arm, he snagged Max, who was on his way to the family room to turn off the TV. 

"Wait a minute," he said in a low tone, "I need to talk to you." 

Maria eyed him suspiciously, then tossed her head and said, "Fine. You two boys talk. I'll just go remind Isabel to put plenty of Tabasco in the warm milk." With a flounce, she left Isabel's room to the two aliens. 

"What is it, Michael?" Max asked. 

"Two things," Michael said, his face impassive though his voice was strained. "You gotta promise me you'll keep an eye on Maria when I'm out. Alex can help, but he won't be much use when they're dreamwalking." 

Max looked at him speculatively. "Maria wasn't kidding about you stalking her, was she? What's going on?" 

"I don't have time for explanations. She'll be back in a minute. Get her through this safely and we'll talk." 

Studying the carefully controlled face in front of him, Max was troubled to observe a hint of desperation in the dark eyes. Michael, who had always shied away from asking help from anyone, was asking for his. He couldn't refuse. "I'll watch out for her. But when this is over we are due for a serious talk." Michael ducked his head once in acquiescence. Max went on, "What was the other thing?" 

Michael swallowed. "I'm not sure I can do this, and I have to. Do you...do you think you could use your powers to put me under?" 

"I don't know," Max answered. "I've never tried anything like that before. But if I can make the right kind of connection, who knows? It just might work." 

"It better work," said Michael gloomily, "because otherwise you really are gonna have to deck me. I don't know how much more of this I can take." 

Max hid his chuckle with a fake cough and looked away, pretending he had to consider Michael's request. When he had regained his composure, he looked back and said calmly, "I can try." 

"Then let's do it," Michael said, moving decisively out the door and down the hall to Max's room. Liz was inside, performing her Maria-assigned duty and plumping Max's pillow to its fullest extent. She moved back in surprise as Michael unceremoniously grabbed the pillow from her hands and tossed it on the bed, throwing himself down after it with a plop. "Do it," he said. 

Max looked at Liz, who was standing curiously by the dresser. "Liz, could you give us a minute?" he began. 

Michael interrupted impatiently. "She doesn't bother me. Let's get on with it." 

"What are you going to do, Max?" asked Liz in concern. 

"Put him to sleep," he answered. "If I can. I've never tried it before." 

"Is it safe?" she countered. 

From the bed, Michael spoke up. "It's a lot safer than whatever Maria's got in mind. So hurry it up, before she gets back." 

Max stepped closer to the bed and bent to place his hand on Michael's forehead. Closing his eyes, he focused on the being in front of him. It was Michael and it wasn't; Max could sense that some part of him wasn't there. For a moment he deeply missed his rash, unpredictable friend; then he pushed those thoughts aside and concentrated on the matter at hand. 

Through the connection, he could feel Michael's bone-weariness and the determination with which his body fought it off, and was astounded at what Michael was purposely putting himself through. He didn't understand why he had deprived himself of necessary sleep, but he knew the reason had to be extremely important to the intractable alien. Sensing that Michael was almost to the last reserves of his strength, Max became even more determined to give him some much-needed rest. Even if the dreamwalk didn't work, at least he would get a respite from whatever was driving him. Concentrating, Max tried to send a sense of peace and well-being through the connection, to convince Michael that it was okay to let go for the time being. To relax. To rest peacefully, just for a little while... 

A sound from the doorway behind him pulled him out of his trance, and he looked down to see Michael lying still and breathing deeply. Success. Liz smiled warmly at him before turning to the trio who stood watching from the doorway. Signaling them to be quiet, Max motioned for them to precede him into Isabel's room. 

Maria held back a few steps, waiting until they'd stepped inside, then moved soundlessly into Max's room. She smiled as she took in Michael's sleeping form. His face looked unfamiliar for a moment before she realized that in repose he had lost the icy look he'd been wearing for weeks. Picking up the discarded quilt, she once more covered him with it. "Told you I'd tuck you back in," she whispered. He didn't so much as move. 

Heading into Isabel's room, she held her head high, unashamed of her lapse into sentimentality. Isabel smiled, but didn't comment. Max, however, had a worried look on his face. 

"What?" she said. 

"He asked me if I'd put him under," Max said, uncertain of her response. "He wasn't really ready for the DeLuca method." 

"So?" She looked at him for a moment, puzzled, then realized. "God, Max," she said with a ladylike snort. "I'm not mad at you or anything. I don't care how he fell asleep. I'm just glad he did." She looked around at the four friends surrounding her and unknowingly echoed Michael's words. "Let's get on with it." 

Moving around the bed, Isabel patted the spot next to her. "Come on, Maria. All aboard the Dreamwalker Express, destination Michael's dream desert and points west, no stops." 

Maria grinned and joined her. With Max in position by Isabel's side, they were ready. Isabel had taken Maria's hand and was beginning to focus on Michael's picture when Maria sat bolt upright. "What is it?" Isabel asked sharply. 

"Nothing," the other girl said. "Well, nothing much, anyway. It's just..." Her voice trailed off and she looked at her best friend. "Liz?" she asked. "Would you mind...sitting with him?" She ignored Liz's understanding look and tried to justify the request. "It's been a hard day, and we're all in this together, and I...I just don't want him to be alone," she admitted softly. 

"He won't be," Liz answered. With a sincere "Good luck," she left the room. 

"Okay, now I'm ready." Maria lay back down, and the dreamwalking process began. A few moments, some confusing flashes and an intensely brilliant white light later, she opened her eyes to find herself standing with Isabel in a familiar-looking desert. 

Looking up at the cloudless sky, Isabel spoke in caution. "We have to get this right. If it doesn't work, there's no way Michael will let us try it again." 

"I know," Maria answered. "But it shouldn't be so hard this time. I mean, we've already been here, so we know what to expect. And there's still a hole in the wall, so all we have to do is reach in and pull Michael out. Then when he wakes up, he should be himself again, right?" 

Isabel nodded hopefully. "So let's find him. Which direction?" 

Maria slowly turned in a circle, trying to get a feel for Michael's location. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "What happened to my footprints, anyway?" 

"It got a little breezy the last time I was in here," Isabel answered. "They must have been covered over with sand." 

"Great," Maria complained. "Well, this way is as good as any." With that she headed across the sand, her hands outstretched. She wasn't going to run headfirst into anything this time, that was for sure. 

Together, the girls walked for what seemed like hours, exchanging the occasional comment or complaint. After a while, Maria stopped and turned to look at the trail of footprints in the sand behind her. "We're not getting anywhere," she complained. "Did it take this long last time?" 

"I don't think so. Maybe we're going in the wrong direction." Isabel pushed a few strands of hair off her hot face. 

"I can feel him in every direction, so how can there be a wrong one?" 

"Don't ask me. I'm just the transport on this little jaunt. You're the navigator." 

Maria grumbled, "Where's Rand McNally when you need them? I'm working without a map here." She took another look around and continued, "Well, let's keep going. We're not going to accomplish anything standing still."  
  


*****

Alex perched on Isabel's desk chair, watching Isabel and Maria as they lay unmoving, with Max kneeling nearby, maintaining the connection between them. At least they were doing something about the situation. All he could do was sit. And watch. And wait. And barring something going wrong, that's all he would be doing. He fervently hoped Liz wasn't feeling as useless as he was right now. 

In the next room, Liz wasn't feeling at all useless. She was too busy feeling worried. Thoughts of the ongoing dreamwalk had filled her mind and kept her distracted for a while, but then a restless movement from Michael caught her attention. Was he awake? Was it over? She moved closer. His hands were moving fitfully across the fabric of the quilt, and his brows were drawn together in a grimace, but he was still asleep. 

Kneeling by the side of the bed, Liz watched him uneasily. Max had said Michael was prone to nightmares. Somehow she was certain that she didn't want to know what he was dreaming about, that it would be darker and more disturbing than she could handle. She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden chill, and remained by the side of the bed, afraid of trying to soothe him for fear of waking him. The others were taking action and all she could do was sit and watch, powerless to help.  
  


*****

"How long have we been in here?" asked Maria, kicking at the sand in frustration. 

"A few hours, maybe," replied the taller girl. "It's hard to tell." 

"It isn't working!" 

"Give it some time. Alex won't pull us out unless something looks like it's going wrong. Be patient." 

"How can I be patient?" Maria cried out. "I'm no good at it. You want patience, talk to Liz. Wackiness is more my strong suit. Well, that and putting up with pigheaded, contrary aliens who would drive a sane person crazy! Arrgh! This is hopeless!" 

"Maria, don't give up now. We can--" 

"Give up?" Maria said, aghast. "I have absolutely no intention of giving up here, Isabel. Geesh, there was no reason to spoil a perfectly good rant." 

Isabel smiled. "All right. Rant on." 

"Well, now I'm not in the mood," Maria said sheepishly. They walked on for a few more steps, and she asked, "So how does this whole dreamwalking thing work, anyway? I mean, if one part of Michael is asleep and we're in his dream, can he see us?" Stopping in her tracks, she looked up at the empty sky and shouted, "Okay, Michael. You agreed to this dreamwalk. So help us out here already! It's your dream--give us a sign or something." 

Isabel snickered. "What are you waiting for, a burning bush? He's Michael, not God." 

"Oh, believe me, I am not confusing the two," Maria riposted. "I just think that since it's his problem we're working on, he could give us a little help!" Her voice rising shrilly, she called, "Got that, Michael Guerin? Get off your lazy dreaming butt and do something!" 

There was no response. But then again, Maria wasn't really expecting one, so she wasn't surprised. With a sigh, she started trekking across the sand once more. 

Behind her, Isabel could hear her muttering under her breath, but couldn't make out any of the words, for which she was grateful. She looked around for something else to focus on, and found it. Putting a hand out, she latched onto Maria's sleeve. 

"What?" 

"Did you just ask for something to happen?" Maria nodded. "Well, look." 

Following her pointing finger, Maria took one look and felt her heart take up residence in her throat. "Oops."  
  
TBC...  
  



	23. Masques: Chapter 23

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 23_

"Oops?" blurted Isabel. "That's all you can say, _Oops_?" 

"This was not what I meant when I asked Michael to do something," Maria shot back. "Do you think he's the one doing it?" 

"I don't know." 

Maria turned her face up to the sky and shouted. "Michael! If this is your idea of helping, you are seriously warped! You can quit already!" Isabel remained staring into the distance. Maria peered in the same direction. "Is it stopping?" she asked hopefully. 

Shaking her head, Isabel responded, "I don't think so." 

"Of all the times for Michael to listen to me!" fumed Maria. "No, he has to wait until we're in the middle of his freaky little dream to do what I ask." 

"If it is him, he might not even be aware of it," Isabel pointed out. "You can't really control what happens when you dream." 

"Now's a great time to tell me that!" Maria looked once more into the distance. What had been flat desert and empty sky was no longer. Instead, a rapidly building breeze from out of nowhere tossed the desert floor nonchalantly into the sky. It slammed the sand violently down into a mountainous dune before picking it up and forcing it once more into the air. It was hard to tell through the blowing sand where the desert floor ended and the sky began. What was even worse, it was moving ominously in their direction. 

"What do we do?" asked Maria. "It's one thing to be stuck inside Michael's brain, but it's another to be buried under a ton of sand." A horrible thought struck her. "You know how they say that if you die while you're dreaming, you die for real? Well, what if you die in someone else's dream?" 

"I don't know. You've already been hurt in here once; we can't take the chance that something worse could happen." Isabel studied the oncoming wall of sand. "I'll have to try and pull us out of the dream," she decided. 

Maria grabbed her arm. "You can't! You said it yourself, Michael will never let us dreamwalk him again. We can't leave until we find him." 

"I don't think much of our chances of surviving _that_," said Isabel bluntly, gesturing toward the approaching sandstorm. "We don't have another choice." 

"Sure we do. We have to. Can't you..." Maria's mind raced, trying to devise a solution. "Can't you manipulate the sand around us into some kind of shelter?" 

"This is Michael's dream. I can't affect anything in it, remember? You're the one leaving the footprints." 

"Yeah, well, about the only thing I can do is dig," said a very tense Maria. "And I don't think a little hole in the sand is going to protect us from an entire desert full!" 

Isabel looked back towards the storm, which was moving inexorably closer to where the two girls stood. "We need to get out of here. Now," she responded brusquely. 

Maria planted herself on the ground. Crossing her arms, she refused to budge. "I am not leaving." 

Isabel looked at her and let out a hiss of frustration. "Fine. Then there's only one thing we can do. Run!" 

They turned their backs to the oncoming wall of sand and took off. The high-pitched shriek of the wind behind them grew louder as they raced across the sand toward...more sand. There was no shelter in sight, nothing to protect them from the ever-approaching storm which loomed malevolently over them. Only more sand--albeit sand that just lay on the ground like it was supposed to--but sand nonetheless. There was nothing to help them. 

That is, until Maria, a few steps in the lead despite her shorter legs, ran into something hard and invisible and fell backward into the sand with a grunt. Déja vu. Seeing her, Isabel pulled up short and managed to barely avoid a head-on collision of her own. "I think it's Michael's wall," she cried. "Come on!" 

Reaching out, she pulled the smaller girl to her feet and tugged her around to the opposite side of the cylinder. They huddled together against the invisible barrier, watching as the onrush of sand split around it and rushed forward, leaving chaos in its wake. Squeezing her eyes tightly closed, Maria held on to the wall with all her might. The sound of the wind-tossed sand overwhelmed her, filling her ears with its vicious roar. And then, for a moment, she thought she heard a voice underneath the rushing volume of the wind. An oddly familiar voice, too muffled to understand. 

With a last violent crescendo, the moving sand dune drowned out all other sound and thundered past. Even though they couldn't see it, Michael's cylindrical prison had protected then from the bulk of the windblown sand. Maria was left, coughing miserably, as the last few grains settled back down on the now quiescent desert floor. She turned to see a sand-coated Isabel. "You okay?" 

"Yeah, I think so," Isabel grimaced. "I'm just...dirty." With a wave of her hand, she caused the sand sticking to her clothes, skin and hair to dissipate as if it were never there. Maria, covered with remnants of the desert floor, watched her intently and attempted to wipe off her face with an equally encrusted hand. 

"I thought you couldn't do that kind of thing in here," she said, spitting out a mouthful of sand. 

"I can't affect the dream. But I'm not really a part of the dream; I'm just observing it," explained Isabel. "I can affect myself." Reaching out her hand, she continued, "And I should be able to affect you." A small burst of energy and Maria was clean as well. 

"Thanks," she said. She looked around at the now calm desert. "That was really...frightening." 

"Uh-huh." 

A wrinkle appeared between Maria's brows. "Did you...did you hear anything, Isabel?" 

"Just the storm. It was really noisy. Why?" 

"It's nothing, I guess. I just thought I heard something else." 

"What?" 

Maria stared down at her hands. "A voice." 

"Whose voice? Michael's? It's his dream." 

"It wasn't Michael, that much I do know. I don't know who...but it sounded familiar," she said thoughtfully. 

"Max? Liz?" 

Maria shook her head. "I don't know. I couldn't make out what it was saying. If I even did hear something...Maybe I imagined it." 

Isabel studied her carefully. "Maybe." She looked at Maria, who was still frowning at her hands. "What?" 

"I don't know. It just...it just really bothers me." She shook it off. "Never mind. It's not important, I guess." 

Isabel gave her a shrug and a half smile. "We were lucky this time. We can't afford to take any more chances." 

Maria turned to face her, a pleased expression on her face. "We don't have to. We found it, remember?" Gingerly rubbing her forehead, she tilted her head up and motioned with her chin at the space above them. "If I'm not mistaken, there should be a Czechoslovakian-made opening in the barrier, shouldn't there?" 

"There should be." The two girls stood and looked for the opening. Although they couldn't see the structure in front of them, a squarish block of darkness was visible, as if hanging in midair. Crowding together in front of it, they peered in. It was very dim inside, too dark to make anything out. 

"Michael?" called Maria. "It's me. Me and Isabel. We came to get you." 

There was no answer, and no sign of movement inside. Isabel turned to the smaller girl and raised an inquiring eyebrow. 

"He's got to be in there. I'm going in," Maria said. 

Isabel grabbed her arm to halt her. "You can't. The last time you went into that room, you vanished in real life. Disappear again and Alex will think something's wrong--he'll pull us out of the dreamwalk." 

"And Michael will never let us back in," finished Maria softly. She considered for a moment. "Well, what if I just stuck my head in far enough to see? You don't think it would disappear, do you?" 

"Do you really want to risk it? I mean, Alex won't be too pleased if just your head disappears, either. Decapitation isn't really a good look for you." 

Maria snickered. "You're right, I'm short enough already. But he's not answering, so I guess it's our best plan." 

"Tell you what. I'll hold onto you. That way if you have any problems, I can pull you out," Isabel suggested. 

Maria nodded. "It's a plan. Here goes." Placing one hand on the barrier, she held the other behind her. Isabel took it. Then, taking a deep breath, Maria leaned forward through the window. It was extremely dark inside, and she squinted to try and make out anything in the dimness. 

"Do you see him?" she heard. 

She called back, "No. Give me a second, why don't you?" Her eyes slowly began to adjust to the lack of light and she scanned the cylindrical room. It wasn't very big. Where could he have gone? "Michael?" she called again. "Why won't you answer me?" 

A cracked voice responded, so low she could barely hear it. "Because you're not real." 

"Michael!" she exclaimed. Pulling her hand out of Isabel's and ignoring the other girl's protest, she put both hands on the edge of the window and leaned further forward, looking down. He was there, huddled under the opening with his arms wrapped protectively around his knees and his head bowed. "Michael, I am so real. I'm here." 

"You always say that, but you never are," he answered haltingly. "You keep coming back, but you're never here." He gave a wild laugh, which frightened her. "You can't fool me any more." 

"What's going on?" Isabel called from outside. Maria motioned behind her for Isabel to hush. 

"I'm not fooling you, I promise. I'm really here, and so is Isabel. We came to get you out." 

Again he gave a bark of laughter, totally mirthless. "Nobody ever comes for me." 

She could almost feel her heart splitting into pieces. "I came for you, Michael. I will _always_ come for you." 

His response was so low she could hardly hear as he repeated to himself, "Nobody ever comes for me." Maria looked down at him, her heart breaking. What had happened to him? He was fine when she'd last seen him, before she'd fallen asleep in his arms. And from what Isabel had said when she described the later events of that evening, he hadn't been any different when he and the other Michael rescued her from death in the round room. But now, he almost seemed...well, broken. As if something within him had snapped, leaving behind a living, breathing shell. She bit her lip. What should she do? 

She was temporarily saved from having to make that decision by Isabel, who grabbed her by the back of the shirt and hauled her from the window. "What's going on?" the alien asked again. "Is he in there?" 

"Yeah. Couldn't you hear him?" 

"No, I couldn't hear anything, or see anything. Is he coming or what?" 

Maria swallowed. "I'm not sure he can, not by himself. He...Isabel, there's something really wrong. He doesn't believe I'm really there, and he keeps saying I'm not real." 

The taller girl whispered, "What?" in a panicked voice. 

"Just hold on a minute. I'm going to try to reach him." Leaning back in through the window, Maria said softly, "Michael? I can prove I'm real, and that I'm here for you. Just reach up and take my hand." 

His only movement was a small negative motion of his head. "Please, Michael," she begged. "Just take my hand." 

"Leave me alone," he responded desperately. "Go away. You're not really here." 

"Yes, I am," she said firmly. "And if you won't believe me, then I will climb in there and prove it to you." 

She heard Isabel gasp outside. "You can't, Maria! The last time, you almost died." 

"I know that," she hissed back. "Stop interrupting." She turned back to Michael. "I'll come in if you want me to, and I won't leave you. But it's not safe for me in there, Michael, and I can't survive for very long inside. Please, just take my hand first and let me prove I'm here. Please, Michael." 

His hands clenched as he struggled inwardly, trying to believe her words. Looking up doubtfully, he seemed almost afraid to see her. "Come on, Michael. You can do this. I know you can," she coaxed, before adding with a tense smile, "Besides, if you don't I don't know what I'll do. Yes I do, I'll...I'll...well, I'll come in there and sing every pop tune I can think of. And the Bee Gees, Michael, I'll sing Bee Gees songs. And not one note of Metallica. So if you value your hearing, you'll get off your butt and take my hand already!" 

He stared up at her, not reacting to her threat, until she began to cry silently, the tears welling up and spilling out of her eyes like so many raindrops in a parched desert. With an indrawn breath, he pushed himself to his knees. 

"You never cry," he said doubtfully. "You're there and you say things and then you go away, over and over and over again. But you never cry." 

"I told you, I'm real," she choked out. "Real girls cry when they're upset." 

He cocked his head to one side, a first glint of hope appearing behind his dull eyes as he looked at her. Locking his gaze with hers, he slowly put up one hand, reaching for her with a terrible fear and hope and need and doubt. She reached out as well and wrapped both hands tightly around his. His fingers clutched convulsively on hers, and he didn't tear his eyes away from her. 

"Told you I'm real," she said lightly, with a tremulous smile. 

"You are," he responded. "I really think you are." He slowly got to his feet, not letting go of her hands, and stood diffidently before her. 

"Are you all right. Michael?" she asked in some concern. 

"Yeah, I think so. Now," he answered. 

"You were acting a little weird, even for you, that's all. You scared me," she said. 

"I think I was kind of going out of my mind," he said seriously, then gave her a halfhearted self-deprecating smirk and added, "Not like I was using it anyway." 

"Hey!" she cried indignantly, rushing to defend him from himself; then she caught a real hint of life in his eyes and grinned. "Hey, what do you know? You're growing a sense of humor." Ignoring Isabel, who had begun to tug at her back, she went on, "I am really happy to see you again, Michael. I--" An extra firm tug caused her to stop, and she turned her head, calling over her shoulder, "Would you quit already? I'm trying to have a conversation here." 

"I thought I heard someone else, but I figured I was imagining it too," Michael said. "Who--?" 

"Isabel. How else could I have gotten in here, silly?" she teased. 

A look of clarity grew on his face. "What are you doing back here, anyway? We got you out!" 

"And now I'm back. Isabel and I came back for you, so hurry up and climb out of there, Spaceboy. Let's go home. Everyone's waiting for you--Max, Liz, Alex...hey, even _you_ are waiting for you." 

He abruptly pulled his hands away from hers and took a step backwards, running a hand nervously through his hair. "What?" she complained. When he didn't answer, she set her mouth firmly and said, "Look, I've had a very hard day. You know, the usual customers from hell at work, and then a battle practically to the death to get you to go to sleep, and then on top of everything, your little Tatooine dream world here almost smothered us! That's it. I came for you and I am not leaving without you. So you either get your butt out here, Michael Guerin, or I'm coming in there. Until you are back in Roswell, buddy, consider us joined at the hip." He blinked. "And not in a fun way, either!" she shouted. 

"What, are you stupid?" he burst out. "You can't come back in here. You'll die!" 

Ahhhh. This was the temperamental, totally emotion-filled alien that she loved. Yesssss. She cheered mentally. Not that she didn't love the other Michael, too, but she'd missed his passion and vehemence. Besides, she liked their little squabbles. What could she say--they challenged each other. She looked up at him defiantly. "Then you'd better come out, huh, Michael?" 

He balled up his fists and began to retort, "I--" 

"Oh, no. No excuses. Just make a choice, one way or the other. Which is it going to be, Michael, you out here or me in there?" 

With a curse, Michael spun around, his back towards her and let out a stream of foul language that impressed her no end. She'd had no idea that his vocabulary was so...extensive. Good thing her mother wasn't there with a cake of her favorite soap, or Michael would be burping bubbles for a week. Maria stood and watched intently as his cursing petered out and his shoulders slumped forward resignedly. Then, turning around with his jaw set stubbornly, he moved toward the window and barked, "Shove over." 

With a grin, she called back to Isabel, who up till then had been waiting impatiently behind her. "It's okay, he's coming out!" she cried jubilantly. There was no response from the taller girl, and Maria turned to find her looking up at the sky with a worried expression on her face. "What is it?" she asked. "Another sandstorm?" 

Isabel shook her head. "I thought I heard something," she said slowly. "A voice." 

Maria tensed. "Like the one I thought I heard before?" 

Nodding, Isabel continued to search the sky. "I couldn't hear it well enough to be sure, though. It was...eerie." 

With some urgency, Maria turned back to Michael, who had his hands on the invisible windowsill in preparation for climbing out. He too was very still, as if frozen in place. "Mich--" 

"Shhhh," he commanded. He swept his eyes across the horizon, the rest of his body perfectly still. 

With a frown, Maria concentrated on listening as hard as she could. She heard nothing other than the faint sounds of their breathing. Wait--was that something? A chill ran down her spine. As if from a great distance, a voice whispered, barely loud enough to hear. Somehow she knew it was saying terrible, horrible things, things that she wouldn't be able to bear, even if she were actually able to make out any of the words. With a feeling of impending peril closing in on her, she cried out, "We've got to get out of here! Climb out, Michael. Now!" 

It took a moment for him to actually hear her, as if the almost inaudible voice were drowning out every other sound. When he finally did seem to hear her, though, he didn't move, as if planted to the floor inside the round room. Grabbing his hand, she shouted at Isabel. "Help him!" The other girl rushed to the opening and took Michael's right hand, and together they began to haul him out through the window. "Hurry!" Maria sobbed. His feet were just about to clear the barrier when a giant flash of light blotted out everything, and Maria felt herself falling...  
  
TBC...  
  



	24. Masques: Chapter 24

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 24_

Liz fell back with a yelp as Michael surged off the bed in one sudden, unexpected movement and stood, wild-eyed and shivering. Lying on the floor where she'd fallen, she stared up at the tall alien. He was breathing hard and his eyes darted unchecked around the room as if he were unsure of where he was. "Michael?" she squeaked. 

At the sound of her voice, he went still, and the turbulence seemed to die down in his eyes. Blinking, he turned to her slowly, no expression on his face. "You're awake," she said, and then mentally kicked herself for her inanity. Of course he was awake. He was standing right there, wasn't he? 

"Did it work?" she questioned him. "Did you see them in your dream? What happened?" When he didn't answer, just looking at her mutely, she grabbed him by the arm to pull him from the room. She'd see for herself. Intent on getting next door to Isabel's room, she missed the sudden whitening of his face. By the time they got there, his face was once more devoid of expression. 

Bursting into the room, Michael in tow, she gasped out, "What happened?" Alex was kneeling by the side of the bed, holding up a shaking Maria, while Max did the same for Isabel. Both girls looked exhausted. Actually, so did Michael; a few short hours of forced slumber evidently wasn't enough to catch him up, however strongly he denied his need for sleep. 

"Michael woke up, and we got pushed out of the dream," said Isabel tautly. "When it happened we were just pulling him out." 

"Did it work?" asked Maria. Starting to raise her head, she flinched. "Ow. Got to stop running into things. What is it with the violent headaches, already?" she muttered. Carefully, to avoid jogging her throbbing head any further, she looked up. "Michael," she breathed, putting a hand out towards him. After a moment of hesitation, he took a few steps toward the bed, but then stopped to stand motionlessly, as if his attention was suddenly pulled elsewhere. He paled. 

"You all right, man?" said Alex from his position by Maria's side. 

Shaking off his reverie, the alien meeting Alex's gaze squarely. He ignored the question the teen had asked, and spoke in a ragged voice. "They dreamwalked. Are we even now?" 

Startled, Alex nodded his head, saying, "Yeah." 

Michael turned and abruptly pushed past Liz and out the door. Ignoring her pounding head, Maria was up and after him in an instant. She found him sitting on Max's bed, slowly pulling on his boots. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. He didn't look up at her, much less answer. "We need to talk about what happened in there. I mean, did you see what was happening? Did we...did we get you out? Are you back?" Her speech stumbled to a halt. "Why won't you answer me?" 

He grudgingly spoke. "Nothing to say." 

"Michael, Isabel and I just risked our lives in there to get you out. The least you can do is tell us if it worked or not!" 

"No," he said coldly, standing and moving abruptly towards the window. Maria pushed past him to block it. 

"Oh no, you're not leaving yet. We need to go back in and get you." 

"Maria." Alex's voice came from the open doorway. She willfully ignored him, instead advancing on Michael. 

"I mean it," she said. "Go back to sleep." Reaching up, she placed her hands on his shoulders to push him back down onto the bed. "Max put you out once, he'll do it again." 

He stood firmly in place, not allowing himself to be moved. "I promised Alex you could dreamwalk. You did. It's over." 

"It can't be over," she said, a note of hysteria in her voice. "Don't you see? I promised you I'd always come for you. I can't leave you there, I just can't!" She looked beseechingly up at his shuttered face, and he looked away from her. "Michael, please," she said brokenly, gripping his shoulders tightly. "Please." 

Moving toward her, Alex gave Michael a look torn between sympathy and entreaty and added his pleas to Maria's. "Once more, Michael. For Maria and Isabel. What can it hurt?" But he knew it was futile when he saw the alien look away. Alex gently pulled Maria's hands away from Michael and then held her as she turned and collapsed in his arms. 

Leaving a distraught Maria to Alex, Michael quietly walked out of Max's room and back into Isabel's. Liz was perched on the bed, talking in low tones with the two aliens. 

"Liz," he said gruffly. "Maria...she needs you." 

With a startled look, Liz rose and unhesitatingly went to her friend, only pausing to say "Thanks" on her way out of Isabel's room. 

Michael, left alone with his two oldest companions, stood silently, a somewhat distracted look on his face. Taking in his friend's weary stance, Max ventured, "Michael, you're exhausted. Let me help you get some more sleep." A sharply drawn breath caused him to hurry on, "Not to do any more dreamwalking, just to let you rest. You need it." 

In an empty voice, Michael stated, "I don't need anything." 

"Michael." Isabel made an abortive movement to get off the bed and cross to him, but he moved past her to the window and climbed out, leaving them alone. 

Isabel called his name once more, but Max put his hand out to keep her from stopping him. "Let him go," he said softly. 

"But, Max--" she began. 

"He's close to the edge. Push him any more, and he'll snap." 

"What do you mean, Max?" asked Liz from the doorway. Behind her, Alex watched, his arm around a shaken Maria. 

"He's been pushed to his limit. Couldn't you feel it, Isabel? Maria?" 

Neither girl answered, and the trio of humans slowly entered the room and sat. Sinking down on the bed next to Isabel, Maria bit her lip. 

"What do we do now, Max?" Liz asked quietly. 

Swallowing, he replied, "I don't know." 

Then there was silence as the five friends stared numbly at the walls around them.  
  


*****

Unthinking, Michael Guerin trudged across town, the soles of his boots echoing into the silent night as they hit the pavement. He traveled without noticing where he was going, heading for his apartment by instinct alone. His fragmented mind could only focus on one thought. 

He'd lied to her. 

Well, not lied precisely, but she'd misinterpreted his adamant refusal to talk about what had happened and he hadn't corrected her. He'd just wanted to get out of there. He'd needed to. Something in the back of his brain was setting his teeth on edge, and he'd had to flee. 

But not before--purposely or not--fooling them all. 

He picked up his pace. The voice he'd heard inside his dream hadn't left when he'd awakened. He could still hear it. It drowned out almost every other sound and tore his focus and attention from his surroundings, from what they were saying, from her. He'd barely been able to act calmly, to keep from curling up in a little ball with his hands over his head in a futile attempt to drown it out. 

The sounds of his feet came more rapidly as he broke into a jog and then a full-fledged sprint. But he couldn't outrun this. 

Somehow he made it back to his apartment, never really knowing how he'd gotten there. He fumbled with his keys as he unlocked his door. Safely inside, he leaned back against it and slid to the ground. He had dreamed it once before, and it had never really gone away, but he'd been able to ignore it, to put it aside like it hadn't existed. But now he was back, and so was it, with a vengeance. He couldn't hide from it. 

_Killer._  
  
TBC...  
  



	25. Masques: Chapter 25

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 25_

Sighing, Maria remained in her seat after the bell rang to signal the end of class. She was in no hurry to go to History today. It had been hard enough facing Michael in English this morning, and he hadn't even looked at her. She didn't know if she could handle his closed-off, emotionless demeanor again, not after everything they'd been through on Saturday night. 

After he'd left the Evanses' house, the five of them had sat, silent, each enmeshed in thought. Finally, Isabel had shepherded them all to bed, but Maria had slept fitfully for the short time that she was actually able to rest. It was only due to her physical and emotional exhaustion that she was able to get as much sleep as she did. Sunday night hadn't been much better, but at least she had been in the familiar comfort of her own room. 

Although Liz had tried to cheer her during their mutual shift at the Crashdown on Sunday afternoon, she hadn't really known what to say. Nor had Maria, who got through the day pretty much on auto-pilot, smiling mechanically at the customers and trying to avoid thinking about anything, much less feeling. 

She'd wakened on Monday morning with the same listless feeling and was immediately sent back to bed by a concerned Amy. A day of lying in bed staring at the ceiling hadn't helped much, and her mom had looked troubled as she'd given her daughter a tight hug before Maria left for school this morning. Maria held on to that hug as best she could during the day, but its simple comfort had long since faded. 

As students began to enter the room for the next class, Maria reluctantly gathered her possessions. In the hall, she briefly considered bailing on History, but knew that the ramifications of cutting class could have a bad effect not only on her grade but also on what little free time she had. Her mother would certainly not be too happy to deal with a truant daughter, and Maria didn't feel up to the parental 'discussion' that would ensue if Amy found out. 

She made it to class just before the bell rang, and Mrs. Lyons watched her as she made her morose way to her desk and sat down. Carefully not looking in Michael's direction, she opened her notebook and stared numbly down at it. 

Mrs. Lyons broke through Maria's distraction a few minutes later. "Maria?" she heard, and looked up to realize that all the eyes in the room--save one pair--were plastered on her. A titter arose from behind her, and she frantically tried to recall what the teacher had just said. 

"Perhaps if you paid attention, you would be able to add something to our discussion," Mrs. Lyons said sternly. Maria colored and nodded. Trying to focus on the remainder of the lecture, she didn't notice Michael giving her a very speculative--although somewhat distracted--look. The rest of the class period passed much more quickly, and Maria was able to at least give the pretense that she was following Mrs. Lyons's every word. 

Heading to her locker after class, she found Alex waiting for her. "Hi, Alex," she said in a wan tone, giving him an emotional smile. "What's up?" 

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Alex returned steadily. "You weren't in school yesterday, and you wouldn't answer the phone. Your mom told Liz you weren't feeling well." He looked at her in concern. "You holding up okay?" 

She shook her head numbly. "Not really. But I don't have much choice, do I? I have to get on with my life, just like everything was fine. Or normal. Or something." 

Alex studied her for a moment, then asked, "So in this so-called normal life of yours, are you working tonight?" 

"Yeah. I get to deal with all the worn-out trick-or-treaters," she said without enthusiasm. "Just another incredibly stimulating evening in Roswell, New Mexico. Happy, happy Halloween." 

"Actually, I was thinking about heading over to the Crashdown this evening myself," Alex commented. "My mom's decided to go all out for Halloween this year, and I don't think I can deal with seeing her hand out candy dressed as a French maid." 

The corners of Maria's mouth lifted fractionally. "You're kidding." 

"Nope." 

"That's actually kind of frightening." 

Alex nodded ruefully before continuing, "So I'll see you tonight, okay?" 

Maria paused, then said carefully, "Are you sure avoiding trick-or-treaters is your only reason for hanging at the Crashdown?" 

"I don't know what you mean," he said, an innocent look on his face. She wasn't buying it. 

Eyeing him with suspicion, she said, "So you're back on stalking duty? I thought that the forty-eight hours with no baby-sitter and no Michael lurking in the vicinity was too good to be true." 

He pounced on her offhand comment. "What do you mean, no Michael?" 

"I mean that the past two days were the first in weeks that I haven't constantly either seen you or felt him around. I figured you were backing off." He looked troubled by this. "Why? Wasn't that the plan?" 

He swallowed. "I don't think so." 

"Look, Alex, I know you promised not to tell me what you two are up to, and Michael's certainly not talking. But I'm not going to blindly sit back and act like I don't know you guys are there, either. You're a little too obvious. Well," she mused, "Michael wouldn't be, if I couldn't sense him. He's actually pretty good at lurking." She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. "A really useful talent there. Anyway, if it's so important that I have a baby-sitter around, why the sudden change of heart? I was home all day yesterday, while you were both in school, and I didn't--" 

He interrupted her. "We weren't both in school. I mean, I was, but Michael wasn't. I figured he was lurking over at your place." 

"I don't think so. I would've felt it," she answered slowly. "No Michael vibe." 

"That's...odd," he said. Well, he wasn't going to give up the watch, especially if Michael was slacking off. After all, it was the boneheaded alien's idea in the first place. It looked like he needed to have a chat with the elusive Mr. Guerin. "I'll go to the Crashdown with you now," he decided. "You driving?" 

She shook her head. "Mom needed the car again." 

"Okay, we'll walk. Let me run by my locker and we'll head out," he suggested, and then paused as he caught sight of a tall blonde moving down the hallway. "On second thought, wait right here," he ordered, and moved to intercept Isabel before she got too near. Maria bit down her protest at his abrupt command, and watched curiously as Alex spoke with Isabel. They were just far enough away that she couldn't overhear their conversation. 

"Isabel. What are you doing this afternoon?" demanded Alex unceremoniously. 

"Hello to you too, Alex." 

"Sorry," he threw back, then repeated, "What are you doing this afternoon?" 

"I was going to the library to do some research for my term paper, then home to help Mom get ready for the trick-or-treaters. She's really into it this year." 

"She's not by any chance dressing up like a French maid, is she?" he asked, momentarily distracted. 

"What?" 

"Never mind. Anyway, I need you to do me a favor." 

She didn't hesitate. "Of course. What?" 

"I need you to go with Maria to the Crashdown and stay with her until I get there." 

"Okay," she responded immediately, but added, "Why? What's going on?" 

"I can't tell you that," he admitted. 

"Is this back to your promise to Michael?" she demanded. At his hesitant shrug, she threw up her hands and burst out, "I swear that if he were himself, I would kill him." Alex didn't respond and she went on, "I know, I know. Fine, I'll take Maria and stay with her, and I won't ask any more questions. For now, at least. But we all need to talk, and soon." 

Alex nodded. "You're right, we do." They began to move towards Maria, who was leaning against her locker, waiting impatiently. As a sudden afterthought, Alex added, "And Isabel? Keep your eyes peeled, okay?" 

"Why? What am I watching for?" the tall blonde asked curiously. 

"I don't really know," he admitted. "Just anything...unusual." 

She studied him for a moment, but seemed to find an answer of some sort in his face. "Okay," she answered with a nod. 

"Thanks," he said gratefully. 

Smiling, she quoted his response from the night of the first dreamwalk into Michael-land. "Any time, Alex. Any time." 

Fidgeting nervously, Maria watched them approach. As they neared, she looked up at one and then the other. Alex smiled gently down at her. 

"You're in luck," he said with a grin. "Isabel's got the Jeep, and she'll drive you to work." 

Maria looked at him, suspicion on her face. "And I suppose she's the stalker of the day? The dynamic duo is now a trio?" she said tiredly. 

"I'm just in the mood for something fattening. With lots of Tabasco sauce," put in Isabel cheerily. 

"You can't fool me," Maria shot back. "You've been roped into baby-sitting detail for some reason that only Michael knows." With a sigh, she pushed herself away from her locker. "Okay. Let's go." 

Alex watched them leave and then set off purposefully in the other direction. Now to find Michael, and determine just why he'd seemingly given up on his own plan to protect Maria.  
  


*****

Four and a half hours later, Alex entered the Crashdown, which was still busy with the dinner rush. Isabel was sitting by herself in a booth, calm in the midst of chaos, gracefully flipping through the pages of a fashion magazine. "About time you got here," she commented. "I've read this thing three times." 

"I might as well have been here instead," Alex answered grumpily. "I didn't accomplish anything." He slid into the booth, sitting opposite her. 

Isabel watched him curiously. "What were you trying to do?" she asked. 

"Talk to Michael. But I couldn't find him." 

Isabel looked concerned. "He's been impossible to track down since Saturday night, and believe me, Max and I have tried. He wasn't in school at all yesterday, and he didn't answer the phone." 

"He was back today." 

Frowning, Isabel corrected him. "He may have been there in body, but he wasn't in mind. He was...distant. Even more than he's been since the...split. It was as if he were paying attention to something nobody else could see. I'm worried about him." 

Alex leaned on the table and stared down, lost in thought. Eventually, Isabel broke in and changed the subject. "Well, it seems like my evening was as much a waste as yours." She gestured over to where Maria was serving a tray of burgers to a famished-looking group of teenagers. "I watched her, but nothing unusual happened." 

"That's good," said Alex, forcing a smile into his voice. 

"Well, now you're here, I guess I'll head home," Isabel decided. "Maybe I can still help my mom with some late trick-or-treaters." 

Alex felt a twinge of guilt. "Sorry I made you miss it." 

"It's okay, Alex. Mom will understand. She always does." Smiling, she slid out of the booth. "You get back to watching Maria. Max and I will concentrate on talking to Michael. We'll get through to him somehow." 

Alex wanted to believe her, but had doubts. "What if you can't?" he asked softly. 

The smile slid off her face as a serious look appeared in her eyes. "We have to. Things can't go on like this." Reaching into her bag, she fished out her wallet. 

"Let me get that," he offered. "After all, you did me a favor." 

She didn't quibble. "Thanks, Alex." 

He watched her go, then turned his attention toward the small blonde waitress who was ringing up some departing customers. She looked strained. Sure, she smiled cheerfully at the couple as they paid their bill, but he knew her too well to accept that she really felt that happy. She was just getting to be an excellent actress, that was all. 

Heading over to the booth, Maria quipped, "I see the second shift is on. Can I get you anything?" 

"A root beer and a burger would be great," he answered, not bothering with a menu. He studied her carefully. Her eyes looked lost, but her face displayed a cheerful demeanor that was quite at odds with what he knew she was feeling. She bore up under his probing gaze for a moment, then snapped, "What? I'm fine." 

"Okay. You're fine, nothing's wrong in the world, and I'm just here for a bite to eat. No problem." 

She flushed. "Look, I...I'll just go get your root beer, okay? You can worry about me later." Turning abruptly, she headed for the counter before he could speak up. Alex tiredly rubbed the back of his neck. Surprise, surprise. This wasn't going to be easy.  
  


*****

Alex was still sitting in the booth as she finished closing up the restaurant. Agnes had been scheduled, but had left early, leaving Maria to clean up by herself, and she'd stubbornly refused Alex's offer of help. She wanted to keep busy for as long as possible, in an unsuccessful attempt to avoid all thought processes. 

Yawning, she finished sweeping up and put the broom and dustpan away. It was just like Alex to wait for her, so he could make sure she got home okay. She suspected that he would have even if he hadn't been on stalker detail. She smiled and called out, "I've just got to change, and we can go, all right?" 

An affirmative grunt accompanied her into the back room. Untying her silver apron, she headed over to her locker, only to stop abruptly at the sight of the alien lying on the couch. The small, green, stuffed alien doll, that is. Its head had been ripped off and a folded piece of notebook paper was speared to its small chest with an open safety pin. With her hands trembling, Maria freed the note and unfolded it. The printing on it scrawled violently across the page. **GUESS WHO'S NEXT?** it asked. 

In a shaky voice, Maria called out softly. "Alex?" 

"Yeah?" came the response. 

Her voice continued to tremble. "Could you come here? Please?" 

Instantly he was through the door and by her side. "What is it?" 

"Look," she faltered, pointing to the decapitated doll and handing him the paper. "It's another note. Only this time there's more to it." 

He read the message and looked at the stuffed toy. "This is getting serious, Maria." 

"I know. And it's not just pointed at me any more. It's an alien, Alex. Someone knows about Michael, Max, or Isabel. Or all three of them," she stated in a frightened voice. "Liz should be upstairs. I'll get her; you call the other three. We need to talk."  
  
TBC...  
  



	26. Masques: Chapter 26

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 26_

Darting up the steps to the Parkers' home, Maria felt a thousand questions race through her mind. She impatiently shook them off and tapped on the apartment door before poking her head inside. 

"Hello, Maria," called Nancy Parker as she entered from the kitchen. "Everything all right?" 

"What? Oh, yeah, it's fine. We're all locked up for the night," Maria blurted quickly. "Ummm...is Liz home?" 

"She's in her room," Nancy answered. Watching as the girl hesitated for a moment, she continued, "Since when have you stood on ceremony here, Maria? Go on back." 

"Alex is downstairs. We just...we wanted to talk to Liz about a school project." Well, she'd found the first two notes at school, so that wasn't completely untrue, was it? 

"I'll send him on in when he comes up," Liz's mother offered. "You go ahead." 

"Thanks, Mrs. Parker," Maria said, pasting a smile on her face before heading down the hall to Liz's room. The door was open and she walked right in. Liz was sitting on her bed, a book in her hands. "Liz, we need to talk." 

Setting the book down, Liz answered, "What's going on?" 

"I don't mean you and me," Maria explained quickly. "I mean all of us. All six of us. Alex is downstairs calling the others." 

"What happened?" 

"We've got a problem. I found another note. And it's not just me they're after any more."  
  


*****

Max listened impatiently as the phone on the other end rang for the fourth time. Finally, he heard a click, and Michael's answering machine began to play. The recording was short and to the point: "Leave a message." If Max hadn't been so concerned, the message would have amused him like it usually did. It was quintessential Michael, wasting no time on trivialities. But this was not a usual situation, and Max was worried. 

He spoke into the phone. "If you're there, pick up, Michael. We need to talk." There was silence on the other end of the line, and he went on, "You made a promise, Michael. You promised that if I helped you with the dreamwalk, we would talk. And you've been avoiding me ever since. The time is now, Michael. Either pick up or I'll come over there and dog you until you come through. You're not sliding out of this one." 

Another moment or two of silence, and then he heard a soft click as the phone on the other end was picked up. "Now's not a good time," a gruff voice on the other end said. 

Max sighed, exasperated. "It's never a good time, is it, Michael? Look, we can't wait any longer. Either come over here or I'll come over there, but either way, we need to--" 

A flustered Isabel burst into his room, interrupting his diatribe. Clutching her cell phone in her hand, she spoke urgently. "We need to get to the Crashdown right away. Something's wrong." 

Max's heart took a giant leap into his stomach. "Liz?" he exclaimed in panic. 

"No, she's fine. So are Maria and Alex. But there's a big problem. We need to get over there, now." She noticed the phone in his hand. "Is that Michael?" she guessed. "Yeah. I finally got through," her brother answered. "Good, he needs to come, too. Tell him," she ordered, and then lifted the cell phone to her ear. "Alex? You still there? Max and I are coming, and Max is on the phone with Michael, so he'll tell him about it, too. We'll be there as soon as we can." "Change in plans," Max said to Michael. "Meet us at the Crashdown. We've got a problem." The response was terse. "I can't." Finally losing his temper, Max shouted into the phone, "You can and you will. If your friendship with Liz and Alex, if your relationship with Maria, if Isabel and I have ever meant anything at all to you, you'll be there. Ten minutes, Michael." Hanging up the phone, he grabbed his shoes and spoke to a startled Isabel. "Come on."  
  


*****

Maria sat on the edge of Liz's balcony, watching the other four as they tensely conversed. "He's not coming," she murmured numbly. "We might as well get started." 

"He'll be here," Max insisted. "He won't let us down." 

Isabel put her hand on his shoulder. "You told him ten minutes, Max. It's been forty." 

"Something held him up, but he'll be here," her brother repeated. 

"We don't have a lot of time," Alex pointed out. "Mrs. Parker thinks Maria, Liz and I are up here talking about a school project, but it's getting late. She'll come kick us out soon. We can't afford not to talk about this, so let's get started. If Michael--" Max flashed him a fierce look. "_When_ Michael gets here, we'll catch him up. All right?" 

The other four agreed, although Max was somewhat hesitant. Biting her lip, Maria began. 

"For the past few weeks, I've been getting these...weird notes. Liz knows about it, and I just told Alex the other day, but I didn't want to bother you guys with it. I thought...well, I hoped that it was nothing. And then I fell down the stairs, and I thought maybe somebody had pushed me--" 

"What?" interrupted Isabel with a gasp. 

"I'm fine, Max healed me, there was no proof of foul play, we got over it," Maria explained. She turned to Max. "Or so I thought, anyway. That's when Liz told you that Michael and I were...well, that I was ignoring his existence." 

Isabel let out a disbelieving laugh and Alex nodded knowingly. "I had the same reaction, Isabel." 

"Anyway," Maria continued, pointedly ignoring Alex's comment, "I thought someone was playing practical jokes on me or something, and that one just got out of hand. But today something happened that made me question what was really going on." She swallowed. "I guess it's better if you see for yourself." 

"What?" asked a worried Liz. 

"It's in the break room. Max, Isabel, why don't you go back down the fire escape and we'll let you in downstairs, okay?" 

The two aliens quickly clambered down the ladder, while the three humans took the more traditional route back through the apartment. As they passed through the Parkers' living room, Liz told her mother, "I'm just going to walk Maria and Alex out, Mom." 

"It's rather late," Nancy pointed out. "Do you two have a ride home?" 

Alex and Maria exchanged a glance; he spoke. "Sure, Mrs. Parker. Actually, some friends are stopping by to pick us up." 

"Good night, then," she said with a smile. 

Heading downstairs, they let Isabel and Max in through the back door, and Maria led them all to the couch where the alien doll was still lying in pieces. "After we closed up, I found _that_." She showed the two aliens and Liz the note, which she'd held tightly ever since she'd first read it. Worried glances were exchanged all around. 

"What do you think it means?" Liz asked no one in particular. 

Maria answered. "Someone knows about you guys," she told the two aliens. "Or about Michael. This is a definite threat." 

Isabel tried to brush her concerns away. "It could be just a Halloween prank," she ventured halfheartedly, but then shook her head. "Okay, I know it's not." 

Liz studied the toy for a moment, and then asked, "Maria, why do you think this is a threat to Max, Isabel and Michael?" 

"Ummm, look at it. It's an _alien_, Liz." 

"But the whole town is filled with alien souvenirs. For that matter, your mother makes dolls just like this one. I'm not trying to downplay this," Liz assured her friend. "This whole thing is pretty disturbing. I just don't want us jumping to conclusions without a little more information." 

"You said you'd been getting notes, other than this one? What did they say? Maybe they'll give us a clue," suggested Max. 

Moving to her locker, Maria pulled the other two notes from her bag and held them out to the others. "These are the other notes I got. I found the sketch in my locker at school and the other one on my car." 

"You won't get away with it," Isabel read aloud. "Get away with what?" 

"I don't know for sure," the smaller girl admitted. "But it was right after that very public fight with Michael, and now with the alien...maybe it has something to do with him." 

Isabel looked around the room, then voiced her thoughts. "Whoever it is must have been paying a lot of attention to Maria's comings and goings to be able to plant these notes without being seen. It's got to be someone nearby." 

"Or someone with good equipment, like the FBI stuff we found in Michael's apartment," mused Alex. "Or hey, is invisibility a Czechoslovakian power?" 

"No," answered Isabel shortly, then turned to Maria. "However they're doing it, they're really watching you." 

"Okay, I already have one pair--excuse me, make that trio--of stalkers already, just among my friends," Maria pointed out. "I do so not need another one." Liz and Max exchanged confused looks, and Maria went on, "Didn't you know? This afternoon, Isabel was added to the Maria-watching detail." 

Max looked at his sister, who shrugged nonchalantly. "What? Alex needed a favor, so I helped out." 

"It's too bad Michael isn't here yet," Max mused. "Maybe he could get a vision from one of these notes, get a clue as to who sent them and what their intentions are." 

Alex opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly. He'd promised Michael not to tell Maria about the drawing and the alien's attempts to get visions from it, and now he was ruing that very same promise. But it had seemed like the thing to do at the time... 

"If he can do it, maybe you can too," suggested Liz to the two aliens. "It's worth a shot, anyway." 

They agreed, much to Alex's dismay. Each holding one of the notes, Max and Isabel closed their eyes, trying to summon up a vision that would give them some answers. Isabel's attempt met with no success, but after a moment, Max swayed on his feet and opened his eyes with a jerk. "Did you see something?" Liz asked. 

"I think so," he answered, eyes opened wide in shock. 

"What?" 

He looked down at the sketch he was holding. "I saw who drew it. It was...it was Michael," he said reluctantly. 

The three girls fixed their eyes on him. "What? How?" sputtered Isabel. 

Maria shook her head, rejecting the idea. "No. You're wrong, Max. Michael wouldn't do this to me. You're wrong." 

"I saw what I saw, Maria. I don't want to believe it either, but..." Max's voice trailed off. 

"I don't care what you saw. I don't believe it!" she burst out. 

Alex swallowed. He had warned Michael that his little replacement sketch was going to get him into trouble, but he'd never expected this. He could explain it so easily, but he'd made a promise. As it turned out, a colossally stupid one, but a promise nonetheless. 

He had a sudden urge to go scour the streets until he found Michael and, super strength or no super strength, crack the infuriating alien a good one across the jaw. Of course, that wouldn't make Maria any more pleased with him than she already was. Or Isabel, come to think of it. And he doubted Liz would approve of the violence either. Oh well, for the sake of his own health it was just as well. But he was certainly going to try every verbal trick he could think of to secure Michael's permission to tell all. Just as soon as he saw him. 

He suddenly realized that a heated debate was going on right in front of him. 

"I think we have to at least consider the possibility, Maria, much as I don't want to," Max stated earnestly. "We all know he's not exactly himself. None of us can tell what's going on in his head. He might be worse off than we thought." 

Isabel reluctantly added, "And Alex looked for him all afternoon, and couldn't find him. Maybe he was lurking around, waiting for an opportunity to leave you...well, the latest note." 

"No, he wasn't. I would have felt it if he was nearby, and he wasn't. Just because I don't know where he was this afternoon doesn't mean that he's guilty of anything." Maria rushed on vehemently, "For that matter, I have no idea where Alex was all afternoon, or you, Max, or Liz. And Isabel could have sneaked into the back room while I was working. But that doesn't mean I'm going to go around suspecting any of you. You're not capable of this, and neither is Michael. It's...it's nasty." 

Max was relieved to have an excuse to back down. He didn't want to believe it anyway. "Okay, so it's none of us. Maybe I was wrong, and didn't see what I thought I saw. I'm not all that experienced at this vision thing." 

"So we rule out using visions as a clue, at least until Michael gets here and can try," Alex put in. 

"I'm still not convinced it has something to do with the Czechoslovakian situation," said Liz. "If they're trying to get to you guys, why use Maria? Why not go directly to threatening you? I don't get it. It's too subtle." 

"Unless they're specifically trying to get to Michael," Isabel said softly. "As much as he'd like us to think otherwise, she is--or was--his weak spot." 

Alex frowned and asked, "Are they trying to get to Michael through Maria, or to Maria by using Michael? If she's his weak spot, he's certainly hers." 

Maria shook her head, not really denying it. "But who would really know that? A few public arguments and one kiss in the school hallway last spring, that's all anyone would ever have seen. We weren't exactly a visible couple. He had a hard enough time acknowledging me in public as a friend, let alone a girlfriend. The only people who knew about us were you guys. Well, and my mom kind of suspected, I think." 

"Finding him asleep in your bed was probably a pretty good indication," said Alex, straight-faced. 

She glared at him. "You're not helping, Alex." A thought struck her. "And for some reason, I kind of think Mark could tell." 

"Mark?" asked Isabel. "Mark Blumenthal?" 

"Yeah. He made a comment or two at rehearsal last week that...well, let's just say that he seems to think that...he knows Michael and I have a past, I guess." 

"What did he say?" asked Liz curiously. 

"It doesn't matter. That was after I found the other two notes, anyway." 

Alex tried to lighten the mood. "Was this before or after you laid one on him during rehearsal?" he asked innocently. 

"Maria!" Liz gasped. 

Blushing rosily, Maria looked defiantly around at her four friends. "Okay, so I used the show to try and make Michael jealous. So sue me." Her chin in the air, she continued, "Well, it must have worked, at least a little. At least Mark thought so." Alex's lips twitched with repressed humor, while Isabel and Max stared at her, eyebrows raised in a matching expression of disbelief. Liz just stood there, stunned. "Okay, so maybe it was a little too high school of me," Maria admitted, "but guess what? I am in high school! I'm allowed to do stupid things occasionally! Get over it!" 

After a moment of silence, Max coughed and brought the subject back to the issue at hand. "I'm glad you told us about this," he told her, gesturing towards the notes. "I wish you hadn't waited so long." 

"I didn't want to bother you with it. You would have told Michael, and I needed him to concentrate on fixing his own problems," she explained, then gave a small snort. "I mean, we're doing so well on that front...we didn't need anything else to worry about." 

"So you just ignored the threat to you?" snapped Isabel. "Talk about doing stupid things, Maria! We are all friends here. If one of us has a problem, then all of us have a problem." Her voice calmed down somewhat. "Just let us know about things that happen, okay? No more secrets." 

Maria smiled up at her. "No more secrets," she agreed. Without even discussing it, they both turned and looked pointedly at Alex. 

"What?" he said defensively. Receiving knowing looks from the two blondes, he admitted, "Look, I want to tell you what's going on, but I've got to talk to Michael first. You wouldn't want me to betray your confidence, would you? So don't ask me to betray his." He paused. "Besides, what I know isn't really anything you can't figure out for yourself." 

Maria pounced on this. "He's not just stalking me. He's guarding me, isn't he?" Alex looked back at her, not giving a clue one way or another. Knowing him so well, Maria took this as confirmation. "I knew it! But from what? Yeah, okay, he saw the sketch, but I convinced him it was just a joke, so why is he doing it? He has no idea about the other note, or tonight's decapitated alien, or the fact that I fell and broke my ankle--" 

An extremely upset voice from behind them barked, "You _what_?" As one, they turned to see a white-faced Michael standing in the doorway.  
  
TBC...>br>   



	27. Masques: Chapter 27

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 27_

"Michael," breathed Maria. He'd come. She hadn't been sure he would, but she'd hoped. And he was here, so suddenly that she'd hardly had time to sense him before he spoke. He'd actually come. He... 

...looked terrible. His eyes were dark pools in a washed-out face; his clothes were wrinkled; even his hair stuck out sloppily. In more directions than usual. Maria noted this in a flash, instantly forgetting the notes, the beheaded alien, everything except Michael. "Are you all right?" she asked tensely. 

Ignoring her question, his eyes bored into hers. "You what?" he demanded, then looked away and visibly seemed to take control of himself. "You what?" he repeated, softer this time. 

"I..." she began, only to stumble to a halt at the dead look in his eyes. 

Alex sighed. This was evidently going to take some time. "We've got a lot to discuss. Why don't we sit down?" he suggested. 

Nodding her thanks, Liz led the others into the Crashdown's dining room and summoned the energy to play hostess. "Let me take your coats," she said to the alien trio. Isabel handed hers over with a smile, with Max following suit. Liz turned to the newcomer, who was standing in the doorway leading back to the break room, his eyes fixed on Maria. "Michael?" she said, her hand out for his jacket. 

He turned to her and mumbled, "I'll keep mine." Shoving his hands in his pockets, he ignored the odd look she gave him before she turned away to drape the Evanses' jackets neatly over the counter. 

"Come sit down," ordered Maria, who had slid into the booth, beside Alex. Michael reluctantly approached, reaching an arm out to snag a chair and pull it over to the booth next to her. As Liz crossed to join them, he hesitated, then gave a little nod towards the empty chair, silently offering it to her. 

"Thanks," she said. He didn't respond, only moved back to grab another chair and pull it over, setting it slightly apart from the others and then sitting. He looked up to find five pairs of eyes studying him. He ignored four of them. 

"Tell me what happened to you," he said, scrutinizing her face. 

"I will; that's why we're all here," Maria answered, "but first, please tell me you're all right." 

Michael looked away and said in a toneless voice, "I'm fine." 

"You are not!" she burst out. "You look horrible." 

His mouth twisted and he replied coldly, "It's Halloween, isn't it? See my costume--I'm a human." 

Not liking the direction this was taking, Max took charge. "Calm down," he commanded. "We have a lot to talk about, and everyone needs to act rationally here if we're going to accomplish anything." He looked around. "Any arguments?" No one spoke. "Okay, this is how it's going to play out. Michael, you will reassure Maria about your health, and she will tell you what's been going on. Then we will talk about your little stalking project. Anything else we need to discuss will come after that. Got it?" Again, no dissension, although Michael's jaw clenched. Max turned to his oldest friend. "She's right, Michael. You look like hell. Have you gotten any sleep since Saturday night?" 

The answer was controlled. "No." 

"Then after this, I'm taking you home so you can get some rest. If you can't fall asleep on your own, I can--" 

"No. And I'm fine. Are you done now? Can we move on?," he said, meeting Maria's eyes once more. 

Alex spoke up. "Hey, if you'd gotten here with the rest of them, you'd already know what's going on. The early bird gets the information, buddy. What kept you so long, anyway?" 

The alien began to fold his arms over his chest, then stopped with a jerk and let them drop back down to rest at his sides. "Nothing." He turned to Max. "You said to come. I came. So get on with it. I don't have all night." 

"Michael!" Isabel chided. 

Maria, who'd been watching with narrowed eyes, interrupted. "No. He's right. Don't push him." 

"I really don't think--" 

"It's all right. He kept his end of the bargain--he says he's fine. So we need to keep ours. Go ahead and tell him, Max. We're not keeping secrets any more, remember?" 

Max looked around at his sister and friends. Maria gave him a deliberate nod, and he began to tell Michael about the notes Maria had received. It didn't take very long, and throughout the telling, Michael, who was getting visibly more tense with each minute, kept his gaze fixed resolutely on Max. Maria kept hers on Michael. 

"...and I tried to get a vision from it, but it didn't work very well," Max wound up. 

"You mean, you saw something that couldn't have happened," Alex added. 

Michael turned to the other alien. "Why? What did you see?" 

Max looked ill at ease, and Alex spoke quickly, trying to send a signal to Michael. If he could just prod the taciturn alien enough to make him come clean about it..."He saw the artist, and guess who it was?" 

"It doesn't matter," Max claimed. "It can't have been real, anyway." 

"Why don't you try it, Michael?" suggested Liz. "You've had the best success at getting visions in the past. Or if you can't get something from the sketch, maybe you'll pick up something from one of the other notes. Anything to help us figure out who's sending them, and what they want." 

"He can't," objected Maria. "No powers, remember?" She locked gazes with Michael, who shifted uncomfortably before tearing his eyes away from her. 

Indignant, Isabel spoke. "That's not his fault, Maria." 

"Oh, I know that. Don't go all mother bear on me, Isabel." Maria's tone was casual. "Michael can take care of himself. Heck, he's even taking care of me, isn't he?" 

"Which would be easier to do if you had told us about this stuff sooner," Michael lectured tautly. 

"What, you're complaining that I'm keeping things from you?" Maria cried incredulously. "This from Mr. 'I'm Going To Lurk In The Shadows And Not Tell Anybody What's Going On'?" 

"You should have told Max and Isabel at least, even if you couldn't trust me." 

Maria's jaw dropped in shock. "Couldn't trust you? Who said anything about not trusting you?" 

In an attempt to defuse the situation, Liz interrupted. "Let's get back to the matter at hand, okay? Since what Max saw was wrong, and Isabel and Michael didn't have any luck, it looks like visions aren't the way to go. We could use another plan." 

"We don't need it," said Michael abruptly. "I can tell you what Max saw, and it wasn't wrong. He saw me, didn't he? So I must be the one causing the problems." His voice grew bitter. "Max wasn't wrong. Don't you know by now? Max is never wrong." Thrusting back his chair as he stood, he crossed to the counter and leaned on it, his back towards them. 

Maria followed. She spoke to his back, carefully not touching him. "He is wrong, Michael. He may have seen you drawing the sketch, but the vision was misleading. He could only see your actions, not your intent. You aren't the one making the threats. I know you, Michael, and I don't believe it." 

From his seat in the corner of the booth, Alex spoke. "Look, I know I made you a promise, but I'm sorry, I think I have to break it. So if you don't want me to, you'd better speak up now." Michael remained silent, his back still turned. 

Alex took a deep breath, then spoke to the other four. "Okay, this is what happened. Michael did draw the sketch." Putting up a hand to halt Maria's incipient protest, he continued, "But the sketch you have now isn't the one from your locker. He replaced that one so he could keep it and try and get a vision from it. When you dropped it at lunch that day and he picked it up, he got a feeling of danger, but he couldn't tell what or how, so he kept it to try and get more information. No luck there, but he's been keeping an eye on you ever since. Well, with my help." 

Maria swung back around to face the alien at the counter, noticing the set tenseness of his shoulders, as if awaiting a blow. She supposed she should feel angry with him, for keeping this all a secret in the first place. It was what he was expecting, she knew. But somehow she couldn't. She took a step closer towards him, noting him stiffen perceptibly, and spoke simply. "Thank you, Michael." Turning away, she missed his slight relaxation as she calmly moved back to the booth, sitting once more. Alex, beside her in the booth, looked at her with surprise and pride. 

"Pretty cool move, DeLuca," he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. She gave him a careless shrug. 

"Hey, no big," she responded with a smile. 

Max, sitting back in the booth, let out a breath of air and relaxed for the first time since he'd had the vision of Michael with the sketch. He should have had more faith in Michael. Maria had, why hadn't he? Looking up, he saw Liz gazing warmly at him, as if she could tell what he was thinking. She gave him a reassuring smile, and he began to feel like maybe things weren't all that hopeless after all. To hide his almost elated rush of feeling, he looked down at the notes, which Maria had tossed onto the table. "If this isn't the real sketch, maybe the right one will tell us something. Where is it, Michael?" 

There was no response, and he turned to look at his friend, who hadn't moved since he'd gotten to the counter. Michael's head was slightly tilted as if his attention were focused elsewhere, but all Max could see beyond him was the pass-through to the kitchen, and nothing looked unusual there. Puzzled, he called out again. "Michael?" 

It took a moment for him to be heard, but then Michael turned with a jerk and brought his attention back to the group. "Yeah?" 

"Where is the other sketch?" 

Fumbling in his pocket, the alien pulled out a folded piece of paper, slightly the worse for wear. Max unfolded it and compared the two sketches. 

"Wow," said Isabel, who was looking over his shoulder. "It's a very good copy, Michael." Michael shrugged it off. "Except I think yours looks a little more like Maria." 

"Let me see," the sketch's subject demanded, taking both drawings and studying them carefully. Satisfied, she refolded the one Michael had drawn and got up from the booth. 

"Where are you going?" asked Liz as the girl moved past her. 

"To the break room to put this in my bag," Maria responded calmly. 

Michael watched her, a confused expression on his face. "Why?" 

"You drew it, so I'm keeping it." 

He managed to get one word out. "But--" 

"Hey, if you don't like it, draw me another one. Without a giant X scrawled across my face. Until then, this one's mine," she answered lightheartedly. Swinging the door to the break room open, she froze, startled, as she heard a voice from upstairs. 

"Liz? Are you still down here?" Nancy Parker called as she descended the staircase. 

Recovering, Maria greeted her. "Oh, hi, Mrs. Parker. Sorry, everybody's in there. Our ride came and we got to talking. I just came in to change out of my uniform, and we'll go." The woman passed into the restaurant proper, and Maria began to fumble hurriedly with the buttons on her uniform, keeping a careful ear on the conversation in the next room. 

"Hi mom," said Liz, just barely avoiding sounding guilty. "We--" 

Max, who had stood at the woman's entrance, spoke quickly. "Hello, Mrs. Parker. We were just leaving." 

"Hello, Max. And Isabel." Nancy turned and studied the third member of the alien trio, who was still standing by the counter. "And Michael. It's been a while since we've seen you here." He ducked his head and studied the floor at his feet. "You should try to come in a little more often," she added kindly. "Just because you don't work here any more is no reason to be a stranger." Looking up to see the gentle expression in her eyes, Michael swallowed and gave a quick nod. Liz's mother smiled at him and then turned to the others. "So, the three of you came by to give Maria and Alex a ride?" 

"Actually," said Maria as she entered, dressed in street clothes, "Max and Isabel are taking Alex, and Michael is walking me home." She fixed her eyes on Michael, challenging him to contradict her in front of Mrs. Parker. He looked like he wanted to protest, but shoved his hands in his pockets and remained mute. 

Mrs. Parker eyed them both with interest, then said, "It's pretty late, and there may still be Halloween pranksters running around. Why don't you give Liz a call when you get home, so we'll know you got in all right?" 

In concern, Maria noted the slight drooping of Michael's shoulders as he looked down at the floor once more. She could tell what he was thinking, that Liz's mother didn't trust him with her. A tiny spark of indignation began to glow deep within her. Why, what did the woman think he would do? Michael, of all people, who'd gone out of his way to watch out for her. Michael, who-- 

That spark of indignation flickered away as Nancy continued, "That goes for all of you, as a matter of fact. I expect Liz to get four phone calls in the very near future, telling us you're all home safe, all right?" 

Four voices rose in assent. Even Michael, caught in Mrs. Parker's firm gaze, nodded. Maria looked over to the table. 

"Don't worry, I've got those project notes we were working on," said Alex, holding up several folded pieces of paper. 

"Good. I've got the other materials in my bookbag," she said, gesturing to where she'd thrust the pieces of alien doll from the couch. 

"So we'll continue working on the project tomorrow?" Liz asked, and they nodded back at her. 

"Yeah, we'll see you then," Maria said, and then started for the break room and the back door. "Good night, Mrs. Parker. Coming, Michael?" 

Wordlessly, he followed in her wake. Saying their good nights, the other three left the restaurant as well. Outside, they headed towards the Evanses' Jeep, which was parked in the alley. "Hop in, we'll give you a lift," Isabel offered. 

"That's all right. I feel like walking. After tonight, I could use some fresh air," said Maria calmly. "Besides, now that my stalker here is out in the open, he can walk me home and protect me at the same time." 

Max studied her dubiously, then commented with a shake of his head, "We're not done discussing this. We still have a lot talk about." 

"I know," said Maria. "I've got rehearsal tomorrow, and I think Liz is on for a few hours in the Crashdown. How about if everyone comes over to my house for dinner? My mom had plans to meet some friends, so the house will be empty." 

"Dinner? Are you actually going to make dinner?" asked Alex in alarm. "There's a reason you're a waitress and not a cook, you know." 

"So we'll order pizza or something," she shot back. "The point is, we'll be able to talk without interruption." 

"It sounds good to me," said Max. Isabel nodded her agreement. 

Maria turned to Michael. "What about you? Do you have to work? Can you be at my place at 6:00?" 

"Yeah." 

"Okay then, six it is. I'll tell Liz," Maria decided. She smiled at Isabel, Max and Alex as they climbed into the Jeep. "I'm glad you all know," she said. "It feels better to have you in on this." 

"We needed to be," pointed out Isabel. "The six of us work best as a team." 

"You're right about that. See you tomorrow." Maria watched as the Jeep pulled out of the alley, and then turned to the silent alien who stood nearby. "Come on. Let's get me home." 

Together they began the walk across town to the DeLuca residence. Maria gave an occasional glance up at Michael, who looked as if he were miles away in thought. She didn't feel the urge to pull him back; somehow just walking next to him was enough for now. So they continued silently down the streets, passing the occasional dog-walker and late-night Halloween partier. Arriving at her house, she unlocked the back door and then turned to look up at Michael. "Good night," she said warmly. He stood looking back down at her, and didn't move. "What?" she asked with a laugh. 

"Aren't you..." he began, "Aren't you going to get on my case?" 

"For what?" 

"For everything. Not telling you about the note, for watching you all the time, for...everything." 

Maria studied his carefully controlled expression and took note of a hint of pain lurking in his eyes. "Nope. Not tonight, anyway." She smiled at him. "Look, I'm home safe, things are fine. Will you please go back to your place and get some rest? No hanging around at all hours of the night, waiting for some unknown threat to appear." His mouth worked, but he didn't answer, and she went on, "Look, I won't be able to sleep if I know you're hanging around, and I _will_ know, remember? You need to get some sleep, too. I'll be fine, I promise." 

He hesitated for a moment and then commanded gruffly, "Latch your window." She nodded. 

"I will." With one last look up at him, she stepped inside and locked the door behind her. She watched as he looked around suspiciously and then headed around the house towards the front sidewalk. 

A noise behind her made her jump, and she turned around her heart pounding. It was only her mother, standing by the refrigerator. 

"Oh...hi, Mom," she exclaimed. 

"Hi honey," Amy returned. "Late night at work?" 

"Ummm, yeah," Maria responded absently. "So, did you get a lot of trick-or-treaters?" 

Her mother smiled. "Not too many. There's still a stash of chocolate left over for you." She went back to pouring herself a cup of herbal tea. 

"Oh, good." Maria set her bag down on the counter and fidgeted for a moment. "Mom?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Are you still going out tomorrow night?" 

"I'm planning on it." 

"Well, is it all right if I have some friends over for dinner?" 

"What friends? How many?" Amy asked. 

"Oh, just a few. Liz, and Isabel and Max Evans, and Alex." Her voice faded, and she mumbled, "Oh, and Michael." 

Amy raised her eyebrows in surprise, and looked past Maria to the back door. "Michael, huh?" 

Maria met her eyes, answering defensively, "Yeah." 

Studying the importuning expression on her daughter's face, Amy agreed. "I suppose it's all right. But don't keep them here too late; it's a school night." 

"I won't," Maria assured her. "They'll probably be gone before you get back, anyway." 

"Sure then. Have a good time." 

"Thanks, mom," Maria said in relief. "Well, I have a little more homework to do, so I guess I'll go do it. Good night." She picked up her bookbag and headed towards her room, shutting the door behind her. Tossing her bag on her bed, she moved purposefully towards the window and opened it, hissing, "Michael! I told you to go home!" 

A figure detached itself from the shadows. "I know. I just wanted to make sure you latched your window." 

"Oh. Okay," she responded. "And then you'll go home and try to get some sleep?" 

"Yeah, then I'll go home," he promised. 

"Good night, then." She gently closed the window and turned the latch, locking it in place as he watched carefully. He didn't move away from the house, and she unlatched the window before opening it for a second time. "What is it Michael?" she asked, intently studying his worn face. "Was there something else you wanted to tell me?" 

For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something, but he bit back the words and looked away, shaking his head roughly. 

Disappointed, Maria sighed, "Okay, then. Goodnight." A moment later she was once more safely locked in. Putting a palm against the glass, she leaned close to the window, and said softly, "Pleasant dreams." 

His mouth twisted in a quick grimace that was gone before she was sure she'd seen it, and then, surprisingly, he put a hand up to hers, with only the windowpane separating them. "Yeah, you too," he responded, then turned and disappeared into the night. She watched him go, and then slowly picked up the phone to call Liz.  
  
TBC...  
  



	28. Masques: Chapter 28

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 28_

"So, what do you think?" asked Terri Hutchinson, stepping back. 

Maria studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking in the bouffant hairdo, the false eyelash and bright lipstick, and the discolored mark which surrounded her left eye. She didn't look like herself. She looked like--well, Audrey. Which was just how she was supposed to look. 

"After the first scene, you'll wipe off the bruise, add shadow, liner and the other eyelash, and you'll be set for scene two," the makeup artist told her. "So you think you can reproduce this?" 

"I think so," the girl responded. "The black eye may take a little practice, though." 

"Just remember to stipple the dark purple and a little green into the black to make it three-dimensional," Terri instructed. "Otherwise it will read flat under the stage lights and look fake." 

"Well, it looks pretty darn realistic now," said Maria with a smile. "I look like I've been in a fight or something." 

Terri grinned at her. "It's too bad I couldn't get down here last week," she said. "Then you could have practiced on the weekend and had a shiner for Halloween. It's kind of macabre, but bruises and wounds make for a fun costume." 

"Actually, my Halloween was plenty scary by itself, without the fake bruises," Maria responded with a shudder. Seeing Terri's curious look, she prevaricated, "I had school and work. Each frightening on its own." 

"Enough said," laughed Terri. "I know what you mean. You think it's bad now, just wait until you get to college." She put down the powder brush. "So, let's head out to the auditorium and get Ms. Bedinger's approval, and then you can clean up." 

Together they headed down the hall towards the auditorium, where Ms. Bedinger was running a scene with the three doo-wop girls and Mark. At an appropriate break, Maria climbed up onto the stage to let the teacher study Terri's makeup design under the lights. 

"Yes, that's exactly what we need," said Ms. Bedinger with satisfaction. "It will work very nicely." Maria smiled as from the orchestra pit Alex gave her a double thumbs-up. 

Terri approached the stage. "I need to talk to the trio about their hair and makeup now," she told Maria. "So you can go ahead back to the bathroom and take the make-up off. You can use baby wipes for the first layer, and I left cold cream and some towels by the sink." 

"Terri, thanks for your help," Maria said gratefully. 

"Hey, no problem. I owed Ms. Bedinger a favor; this is an easy way to work it off," the makeup designer answered with a smile. 

As she headed into the hallway, Maria looked at her watch. It was almost 4:30; she should be done with rehearsal and home in plenty of time before the rest of the gang would arrive. She should probably stop off and get some Tabasco sauce, she thought. It wasn't exactly a staple in the DeLuca household. 

She idly wondered how Michael was doing. They hadn't spoken in either of the classes they'd shared, although she was aware of him watching her carefully. He seemed to have done what she asked and gone home the night before--at least she guessed so, since she hadn't felt him around during the night. She'd awakened to an early-morning phone call from Isabel, who had arranged for Max to drop her off at the DeLucas' so she could accompany Maria to school; Michael had evidently been off duty this morning as well. Hopefully he was a little more rested. Not that he looked much better, although he'd evidently pulled himself together enough to put on clean clothes before coming to school. That was at least a start. 

Speak--or rather think--of the devil. There he was, coming down the hallway from the direction of the shop classroom. He must have been working on the plant puppets, she thought with pleasure. Strange how she could be so unhappy with that fact, and then just a few days later it made her giddy with happiness. She smiled as she called, "Hi, Michael," down the hall. 

She was totally unprepared for the look of shock on his face that drained away in a flash to pure anger. In an instant he had rushed to her side and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" he burst out. "Who did this to you? I'll kill him." He was practically shaking with rage. 

"Michael!" she cried, trying to cut through his anger, enough so that he would actually hear her. "Michael, listen to me. I'm not hurt. It's make-up for the show. I'm not hurt," she repeated firmly, reaching up a hand and wiping at the dark makeup underneath her eye. "See? It looks real from a distance, but look at it up close. It's just make-up, Michael." 

He froze and stared down at her face, which was lifted up to his. Suddenly seeming to realize how tightly he was gripping her shoulders, he pried his hands loose and took a halting step backwards. He was still vibrating with anger. As if dragged up from unimaginable depths, a cry of "Goddammit!" escaped him, and he turned and drove a fist violently into a locker. He continued to curse and beat on the lockers, denting a few of them, paying no heed to any damage he was doing to himself. Maria reached out and grabbed his arm to stop him; with an instinctive hiss of pain, he pulled away from her and looked wildly around the hallway. 

Maria began to speak in a soothing voice. "It's all right, Michael. It's all right. Come on, let me see." Some of the wildness began to dissipate from his expression, and she reached once more for his arm, gently this time. Shying away from her hands, he took a step backwards, ending up with his back against the now damaged lockers. 

"Did you hurt yourself? Let me see your hand," she commanded firmly. He reluctantly held up his right hand and she studied it without touching him. "You're going to have some nice bruises there," she said upon seeing the reddened knuckles. "Come on, let go find some ice to keep it from swelling. We can get Max to take a look at it at dinner." He didn't move, and she took a few steps closer until she was standing directly in front of him. 

"I'm not kidding, Michael. We should get this fixed up," she said, reaching for his hand. He jerked his arm up out of her reach, and his jacket sleeve pulled up slightly to reveal the edge of a pale-colored cloth underneath. He immediately pulled the sleeve back down, but it was too late; she'd already seen it. 

She noted the once black, now faded to gray, T-shirt he was wearing underneath his jacket. Faded thought it was, it was long way from the pale color she'd seen peeking out from his jacket sleeve. "What's that?" she asked suspiciously. Again, he didn't move, only looked away from her. 

"Fine," she said abruptly. "I'll see for myself." Reaching up, she began to push the jacket unceremoniously off his shoulders. An abrupt movement of protest from Michael caused her to put one finger against his chest and say, "Stand still. I'm not going to hurt you, but I am going to take a look at your arm. You can leave if you want, but you're going to have to go through me to do it. Got that?" She freed his left arm before moving to his side to ease the jacket off the right arm, tossing the garment casually to the floor. The pale colored cloth she'd seen was wrapped around his forearm and knotted clumsily in several places. Maria felt suddenly lightheaded. 

She bent down to snag his jacket and then a grabbed a fistful of his shirt, using it to pull him along with her into the nearby bathroom. He opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from her quickly closed it. "It's just the girls' bathroom, Michael. Get over it." 

With her free arm, she swept the jar of cold cream and towels Terri had left to the far side of the counter, and then pointed to the counter. "Sit there," she commanded. His mouth tightened stubbornly, and she threatened, "If you don't sit up there by yourself, then I'll put you there." She looked up at him towering over her, and realized how ridiculous this idea was. As if she could just pick him up and move him wherever she wished, like a stuffed animal. Yeah, Michael the teddy bear. Not. An amused smile threatened to break through, but she managed to hold it back. "Come on, Michael. Just sit down, okay?" With a sigh, he obeyed her. 

Okay. She could handle this. With trembling fingers, she reached towards his arm. "I'll try not to hurt you," she promised. Slowly she fumbled with the knots and gently unwrapped the cloth, which turned out to be strips of an old T-shirt. Maria bit back a sob at what she saw underneath. 

His forearm was covered with angry red burns and white blistered spots, some of which had begun to ooze slightly. "Oh my god," Maria whispered. In shock, she looked at Michael, who was staring stonily into the distance as if to disassociate himself from what was going on. Ideas of doctors, or hospitals, or, better yet, Max rushed through Maria's head. Bracing herself, she looked down once more at the wounded arm. Her heart thudded painfully once and then froze in her chest as she realized where she'd seen him hurt like this before. Exactly like this. 

It was in the round room. 

He'd told her he'd tried to use his powers, and they'd backfired, hurting him. 

And now here was Michael, with the same wounds he'd had then. 

She knew for sure what she'd begun to suspect yesterday. 

He was back.  
  
TBC...  
  



	29. Masques: Chapter 29

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 29_

Several moments that seemed like hours passed before Maria was able to pull herself together enough to speak. "We need to get this looked at," she said steadily, holding in the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "I don't know what to do for it. I mean, basic first aid isn't quite going to cut it here." She could practically feel herself start to babble, and she closed her mouth resolutely. 

Looking at Michael once more, she saw that he was sitting very still, his eyes closed, breathing shallowly. He looked tired and in pain, and her heart could hardly stand it. "Michael?" she said, touching his cheek gently when he didn't respond, "I'm taking you home, okay? We'll get Max to come fix you up and you'll be as good as new." His mouth twisted and he wouldn't meet her eyes. 

She looked around, hesitant to restore his makeshift bandages to his arm, and finally picked up one of Terri's clean towels and wrapped it carefully around his forearm, securing it with a few bobby pins from the makeup designer's case. He slid off the counter when she was done, and picked up his jacket, sliding it carefully on over the protective towel. "Come with me," Maria told him, leading him from the bathroom and into the hall towards the auditorium. 

Once inside, she pointed him to a seat in the last row and rushed down to find Ms. Bedinger. "I thought you were taking your makeup off," the teacher commented. 

"I'm sorry, but something's come up. An emergency. I have to go," Maria told her with haste. 

The teacher frowned. "We still have several scenes to run," she reminded the girl. 

"I know, but I can't. This is more important." 

A raised eyebrow let her know that, according to Ms. Bedinger, nothing else was more important than the show. "And just what is the nature of this emergency?" 

"It's a family emergency," Maria answered firmly. "I'm really sorry, but I have to go now." Without waiting for a response from the disconcerted teacher, she turned and started back up the aisle, only to be stopped by a concerned Alex. 

"What's going on?" he asked quietly. 

She responded in a low voice. "Michael's hurt. I need to get him out of here so Max can help him." 

Instantly, Alex moved into action, calling down to the guitar player. "Hey Dwight, put my bass and amp away for me, will you?" He received a nod and turned back to Maria. "Let's go, then." 

Together they headed back up the aisle, ignoring the curious looks from the cast on stage. When they reached Michael, they found him sitting stoically, eyes fixed ahead. It took several whispers of his name from Maria before he seemed to realize they were there, but he finally rose and followed the girl out of the auditorium, down the hall and into the parking lot. All without saying one word. 

Maria situated the distracted alien in the front passenger seat and then tossed her bookbag to Alex, who'd climbed into the back. "My cell phone's in the bag. Call Max and Isabel and tell them to pick up Liz and get over to my place, fast." 

Noting the seriousness of her tone, Alex did as she asked without quibbling. A short while later, the Jetta pulled up to the DeLuca's house, and Maria crossed her fingers that her mother had already left for the evening. 

Michael was once again staring at nothing, and Maria had to repeat his name several times before he turned and looked at her, staring numbly at her face without moving. Sighing, she reached up and unbuckled his seatbelt, saying, "Come on, Michael, let's get you inside." 

She barely had the back door unlocked and open, calling questioningly, "Mom? I'm home," when Amy appeared in the kitchen, fastening an earring as she entered. 

"Hi, honey. You're home early." 

With great aplomb, Maria answered, "Oh yeah. Rehearsal got out early, so we came on over." 

"So I see. Hello, Alex. Michael," her mother added coolly. 

Alex returned her casual greeting, but Maria was surprised when Michael managed one as well, saying in a gravely voice, "Hello, Mrs. DeLuca." 

Exchanging a questioning glance with Alex, Maria told her mother, "We're just going into the living room, Mom." 

"I'd like to speak with you for a minute first, Maria." 

Alex looked at first one and then the other of the DeLuca women, and cleared his throat. "We'll just head on into the other room. Come on, Michael." The two left the kitchen. 

"What is it, mom?" asked Maria, setting down her bookbag. 

Amy steeled herself, then straightened and said, "I'm sorry, Maria, but on second thought I don't feel comfortable having that boy in the house." 

Maria immediately knew she wasn't talking about Alex. Giving her mother a challenging look, she responded with one word. "Why?" 

Amy looked uncomfortable, but managed, "He's not good for you. He gets into too much trouble--how many times has he been arrested now, anyway? He's not a good influence." Her voice trailed off as Maria let her know with a glance that she wasn't buying it. Amy paused, then spoke honestly. "I just don't like seeing you get hurt." 

"What? What are you talking about? What?" Maria blustered with bravado. 

"Oh come on, honey. I know how you felt about him last year. I'm your mother, remember? I also know how much you've been hurting all summer. And now things are finally going well for you again, and I don't want to see you blow it by getting mixed up with him." 

"Getting mixed up?" Maria squawked, her voice cracking. "Look, Mom, you need to understand something. Whatever else he may or may not be, Michael is and always will be my friend. Nothing you can say is ever going to change that. He's been through a lot, but he's a good guy. And he's important to me." 

Reaching out, Amy pushed the hair out of her daughter's face and studied her eyes. "You think you love him, don't you?" 

"No. I know I love him," answered Maria honestly. Amy sighed, a distressed look washing across her face. "It's all right, Mom. Everything's going to be fine." 

"I wish I could believe that." 

"Yeah, me too," said Maria under her breath, before changing the subject. "So you all set for a good time tonight?" 

"Yes, I am. Janet will be here to pick me up in a few minutes. I'll be back by 10:00, okay?" 

"Yeah, Mom. Have a good time," her daughter returned with an over-bright smile. Amy gave her an odd look, but shook her head. 

Maria was at the kitchen door when Amy said, "You know, it's a good thing Alex is over here. I'm not sure I'd let you and Michael stay here alone." 

"Moooom!" protested Maria. "Michael is not going to do anything to me." 

"It's not Michael I'm worried about," her mother answered. "It's you." At the girl's dumbfounded look, Amy went on, "I was young and in love once myself. And look where it got me." 

"Yeah, take a look," responded Maria. "You're an attractive, independent woman who runs her own business. Really tough there, Ms. DeLuca. Besides," she added lightly, "you have the perfect daughter. What more could you ask for?" 

Amy raised one eyebrow quizzically. "The perfect daughter, hmmm?" 

"You betcha." 

Amy smiled widely at said daughter. "Maria?" 

"Yeah?" 

"My very perfect daughter might want to take off her stage makeup before dinner." 

Maria's hands flew to her face. She'd been so caught up with Michael that she hadn't even realized. 

"There's Janet," Amy said as a car horn honked outside. "Have a good time tonight, honey. But don't do anything I wouldn't do." She paused, then added wryly, "In fact, don't do anything I _did_ do, all right?" 

"All right," laughed Maria, putting up her hands in mock submission. "See you later, Mom." 

As soon as Amy had left the kitchen, the smile disappeared from Maria's face. She headed into the living room, and found Alex sitting on the couch while Michael stood by the window, gazing out at something in the distance. 

"What was that all about?" Alex asked curiously. 

"Oh, just Mom being Mom. Worrying about nothing," Maria tossed out. "Alex, keep an eye out for the others and let them in, will you? I'm going to get this gunk off my face." 

"I was wondering if you were going to adopt that as a permanent look," joked the teen. 

"Hardly. I prefer the unbruised version of me," she responded lightly. "I'll be back in a few minutes." 

A short while later, she rinsed her face off and patted it dry. Looking in the mirror, she stared at her own reflection. It seemed unfamiliar, as if someone had slightly rearranged the elements into someone different. She shook her head. No time for flights of fancy now. Quickly combing out her hair, she pushed it back with a tortoiseshell band and headed downstairs. She wasn't going to bother to put any more makeup on. They could just take her the way she was. 

Alex was still on the couch, watching Michael, who hadn't moved from the window. "They aren't here yet?" asked Maria. Alex shook his head. 

Sitting on the other end of the couch, Maria fidgeted nervously for a minute. Should she confront Michael about his being whole, or wait until Max could fix him up? She could tell he must be in a lot of pain, and he kept doing that weird distancing thing, where he'd stare off into space. Maybe she should wait. But she needed something, anything, to keep her busy until the others arrived. "Anybody want something to drink?" she offered. 

"No thanks," Alex responded, and went back to studying Michael. Michael didn't pay any attention to Maria's question or to Alex's scrutiny. 

A few more moments went by. "I wish they'd get here," complained Maria. She turned to Michael. "Sit down, Michael, would you? You're making me nervous. And believe me, you do so not want to see me nervous." That seemed to capture his attention; he actually turned around and looked at her. Pointing to a nearby chair, she commanded, "Sit." 

His mouth tightened, and he spoke. "I'd rather not." 

"But you should rest. You're hurt." 

"I'm fi--" 

"Fine," she finished for him, her voice overlapping his. "I know, you're always fine, aren't you? God, Michael, you could be lying in little tiny pieces somewhere, about to die, and you'd still tell me you're fine. I know you've got a wider vocabulary than that--why don't you use it?" 

"Why? I don't have anything to say." 

So he had nothing to say, did he? Her lips tightened. "You don't?" she demanded sarcastically. "Why not? Were you just going to go on forever without telling me that you're back, that you're one hundred percent Michael again, that the damn dreamwalk we did actually worked?" 

His face whitened, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex's start of surprise, but she blustered on, "Oh, yes, I know, Michael. I thought something was up yesterday, but I knew for sure today. I saw your arm while I was stuck in your head, remember? I can put two and two together--I'm not stupid." 

Alex piped up, "Arm? What about his arm?" Neither one paid any attention. In fact, Maria rose from the couch and took a few angry steps towards Michael. 

"So were you going to tell me? Tell Max, Isabel? Any of us?" 

He bit out a one-word reply. "No." 

"Well, why the hell not?" she yelled. 

He shook his head and muttered, "It doesn't matter." 

"Yes it does, it matters a lot," she insisted. 

"That's not my problem." 

Maria moved closer until she was staring directly up at him. "Well, what _is_ your problem then, Michael? Enlighten me already!" 

He didn't back away. "Keeping you out of trouble and then helping Max win his damn war so I can get the hell out of here, that's my problem! Satisfied?" 

She blanched. She'd always known it would come one day. "You...you want to go back to your planet, don't you." It was a statement of fact, not a question. "To find your home." 

"I don't care where I go. It doesn't matter where I go, don't you see that?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice. 

"No, I don't see that, Michael. I don't get you. Why don't you care where you are? What's going on with you? Why can't you tell me what's happening, what you're feeling? Why do you keep trying to rebuild that damn stone wall?" 

"You want to know what I'm feeling?" he choked out. "You want to understand me? Fine." Reaching out, he grabbed Maria, holding her face between his hands. For a moment she stared into his tortured eyes, and then everything she saw was swept away. 

**FLASH**  
_Michael, trapped in the round room, beating helplessly on the walls, powerless to do anything but rage against whoever or whatever had put him there._

**FLASH**  
_An upraised fist, thundering down again and again as a small boy cowers away._

**FLASH**  
_A desert lying empty under a cloudless sky. No people, no life. Nothing._

The flashes were coming faster now, and with them came sound and pain and emotion. Michael's emotion. 

**FLASH**  
_Helplessness as Hank beats him, screaming at him over and over, "You worthless sack of shit! You're nothing, do you hear me? You're nothing!"_

**FLASH**  
_A mixture of relief, fear and nausea as Pierce's body flies away from them and lands with a sickening thud._

**FLASH**  
_Anger, rising up so thickly it almost chokes him._

**FLASH**  
_Max's voice, saying he is tired of cleaning up Michael's messes._

**FLASH**  
_A sick awareness that he is different. Not just alien, but different from Max as well. That he is wrong, bad, an imperfect copy...some perversion of what he should be._

**FLASH**  
_Fear, rising up to overwhelm_

**FLASH**  
_Horror at what he'd_

**FLASH**  
_Guilt that_

**FLASH**  
_Terror_

**FLASH**  
_Pain_

**FLASH**  
_**Killer**_

With a strangled cry, Maria jerked back away from his hands. Her knees began to buckle, and strong hands caught her from behind. She vaguely heard voices, talking miles away, but all she could see was him. Michael. She stared into his tormented eyes, as if she could see all the way to the innermost chambers of his soul. Opening her mouth, she whispered, almost soundlessly. 

"Oh my god."  
  
TBC...  
  



	30. Masques: Chapter 30

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 30_

It took Maria several moments to even begin to process what had just happened. Part of her was aware that the arms that were holding her up belonged to Max, that Liz and Isabel were standing nearby, but most of her mind was still awash in an ocean of sound, sight and feeling. She felt as if the top of her head had been blasted off by the pressure of the emotions she'd just experienced, and that the bits and pieces that were Maria were all jumbled together with foreign yet somehow familiar pieces of someone else. 

Gradually she began to pull herself together enough to straighten and stand on her own, although Max kept a supportive hand on her back. "What happened?" she heard him ask, but didn't respond, focusing all her attention on the haggard alien before her. 

His expression fluctuated rapidly between anger and worry and doubt and back again before he shut himself off, visibly steeling himself for her reaction. 

"Are you happy now? Did you see enough?" he asked bitterly. "Or do I have to show you more to make you understand?" 

She could read him so easily now--the abrupt demeanor and aggression used as mask to hide his self-loathing and fear. He was dreading her response, deathly afraid that she would do what he couldn't and close off from him. And just as afraid that she wouldn't. 

Stumbling, Maria took a step forward, shaking off Max's hand. Looking up into Michael's face, she could see within his eyes a multitude of questions he was afraid to ask. Instinctively, without hesitation or thought, she crossed the gap between them and wrapped her arms tightly around him, both asking and giving comfort. 

For a moment his hands clenched. Then, heedless of his burns, his arms closed around her, loosely at first, but growing tighter as she nestled within them. With a slump, his head found its way to the crook between her shoulder and neck, and he closed his eyes tightly, bowed down by a weight almost too heavy to bear. 

The others stood, silent and unmoving, not wanting to intrude on this intensely private moment. 

Finally, with a small sigh, Maria reached a hand up and ran it through his spiky hair. Michael held still, taking comfort in the gentle stroke of her hand. "It's all right," she whispered. "Everything is going to be all right." 

Michael, who was not so sure of this, raised his head and straightened his slumping shoulders. He allowed his arms to slide from around her. Suddenly realizing they were surrounded, he averted his gaze from the others, refusing to look at them. Unashamed, Maria reached for his left hand, and his fingers entwined with hers of their own volition. She turned to face the worried friends around her. 

"What just happened here?" asked Max, voicing everyone's concern. 

"Not now, Max. Give us a few minutes, will you? We can talk about it in a little while," responded Maria. She turned to the spike-headed alien, whose fingers gripped hers tightly. "Michael," she began, "let's get your arm taken care of first, all right? You need to be healed." 

Max immediately took a step forward toward his friend's side, but a small shake of Maria's head stopped him in his tracks. "Isabel?" she said questioningly. "Would you heal him?" 

Confused and feeling strangely betrayed, Max watched as Maria helped Michael out of his jacket and pulled him to the couch. She gently unwrapped the towel covering his forearm before sitting next to him and taking his free hand in both of hers. Isabel gave a small hiss of dismay as she took in the damage to his arm, but a serene, reassuring glance from Maria enabled her to take a breath and begin. 

Placing the very tips of her fingers as lightly as possible on the wounded flesh, Isabel ignored Michael's uncontrollable flinch and closed her eyes tightly in concentration. Under her ministrations, his arm began to lose its red, angry look, and she was able to place both of her hands fully on his arm to continue the healing. Finally, she let out a deep breath and opened her eyes. Michael blinked a few times and spoke for the first time in what seemed like days. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. 

"You're welcome," Isabel answered, trying to smile. 

Maria looked around at her concerned friends before turning back to Michael. "Do you feel up to talking about it?" she asked. 

"Not really. But I guess we need to," he answered shortly. 

"I think we could all use an explanation," put in Max. Although he didn't mean to, he came off as somewhat officious, and Michael bristled. 

"Sure," Maria said, running her fingers across the back of Michael's hand in a soothing motion. "What do you want to know?" 

"Everything. What did Michael do to his arm? And what happened to you two just now?" asked Max, concern evident in his voice. 

"Oh, that. Michael was showing me something, a vision or whatever, and I'm not used to it. I just got a little lightheaded, that's all. I think I forgot to eat lunch or something." 

"Lightheaded?" protested Liz. "Maria, you almost fainted." 

"Well, I didn't, and I'm fine." The corners of Maria's lips twitched as she heard Michael's usual response issuing from her own mouth. She shot an amused glance over at him. "We're both fine, aren't we, Michael?" 

He looked back at her solemnly and spoke in a low voice. "Who's got the limited vocabulary now?" She smiled at him, her eyes shining. 

"What happened to your arm, Michael?" asked Isabel. Maria could feel the alien stiffen even before his eyes shuttered right in front of them. He was so not ready to share the real explanation and have to ride out the ensuing fracas, that was for sure. Fine. Well, she would support him, whatever it took. They would just keep this one thing back from the others until he was ready to deal with it, no matter how long it took. So what if they were angry when they eventually found out? Liz would forgive them once she understood why, and Alex wouldn't even-- 

She swallowed as she realized. Oh, god. Alex already knew. He was there when she'd blurted everything out to Michael. She lifted panicked eyes to meet her friend's, wordlessly begging him to understand. 

"Well, Michael?" demanded Max. "What happened?" Eyes flickering around the room as if trapped, Michael reluctantly opened his mouth to answer. 

"Grease fire," said Alex unexpectedly. "He was making one of those awful Tabasco-laced dishes that you all seem to love so much, and spilled some cooking oil on the stove. It went up in flames. Right, Michael?" 

For a split second, Michael stared at Alex in dumb shock before pulling himself together enough to nod mutely. 

"And of course rather than getting it taken care of," Maria corroborated, "Spaceboy here had to ignore it for a few days to let it get really nasty-looking." Glancing at Alex, she tried to convey her gratitude. 

"You should have come to us before now," Max lectured sternly. "Let us help you a little more often, will you?" Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked around at the small group of friends clustered in Maria's living room. "Well, since you're both all right and we've gotten that bit of excitement over for the day, maybe we can get back to the whole reason we're here in the first place. We need to continue last night's discussion." 

Maria jumped to her feet, pulling her fingers from Michael's. "Let's do this over dinner, okay? You've all got to be starving. I'll get some drinks--someone call for pizza." Bustling out of the room, she got some glasses out of a kitchen cabinet, then leaned her forehead wearily against the refrigerator. 

Suddenly, it had all seemed too much to bear, and she had felt an intense need to flee. Was this how Michael always felt? Was his tendency to run, to not get involved, due more to being overwhelmed by everything and less to a need to hide his alien nature? She was amazed that he was still among them. If she were Michael, she'd have left Roswell long ago. 

Sensing someone behind her, she quickly jerked the refrigerator door open and pulled out some juice and a few cans of soda. 

"Are you all right, Maria?" Liz said quietly. 

Maria's response was casual. "Yeah, I'm fine." Oops. There was that word again. "I just want to get everything together so we don't have any interruptions during our talk, that's all." 

"I don't buy that," Liz told her. "Your reaction to this vision thing was awfully strong. You looked completely shaken." 

"I'm okay, I promise. It was just the surprise of Michael letting me into his warped brain," she joked. Then she realized what she had just said. Dropping the drinks on the counter, she bolted for the living room with a confused Liz right behind her. 

Maria ignored the startled looks from the room's occupants and threw herself onto Michael's lap, bursting into tears. He held her stiffly, asking in an urgent tone, "What is it? What happened?" as he awkwardly patted her back. She shook her head, smiling as she cried. Reaching up, he wiped the tears off her face with an unsteady palm. "Don't." 

"I'm not crying. I'm happy," she told him as the tears continued to roll down her face. "And it's all your fault, Spaceboy." 

He tensed. "What did I do now?" he asked guardedly. 

"Nothing, you didn't do anything," she hiccuped. Looking at his confused expression, she laughed and corrected herself. "Actually, yes. Yes, you did do something. You let me in, Michael. Don't you see? You let me see you." 

"Yeah, I know, but...oh." An expression of realization crossed his face. 

"No stone wall!" she chortled joyfully. "I mean, I was so caught up with what I saw that I didn't even realize. You let me in!" Tightening her arms around his neck, she pressed her cheek against his, grinning like a complete idiot. 

It took her a moment to realize that he wasn't hugging her back. Keeping her arms loosely around his neck, she pulled back slightly. His expression was wary. "Just exactly what did you see?" he demanded. 

"You don't know?" 

"I didn't see anything. I was trying to make _you_ see, remember?" he shot back. "So what did you see?" The nervousness in his voice belied his stony expression. 

She hesitated for a moment as she ran through the memory in her head, then replied, "I'll tell you later, when it's just you and me, okay? I...I don't think everybody needs to know." His jaw tightened as he imagined what she might have picked up from him. 

"What do you mean, we don't need to know?" asked Isabel. "I thought we were done with secrets." 

"Yeah, well, some things are private," Maria answered. 

"But if you saw--" 

"I saw what I saw because Michael chose to let me see it. And if he wants you to know, fine, you all can play show and tell. But until then, you are not going to bug him about it. No questions, got that?" she said protectively. 

Michael frowned. "What are you, my keeper? Let them ask. I'll answer if I want to." She bristled and glared at him. 

Without a word, Alex and Liz exchanged speaking glances and headed out of the room, pulling Max and Isabel behind them. Maria barely noticed them go. 

"Fine, Michael. Then while we're on the subject, there's one thing I need to ask, and even if you don't want to, I need you to answer." 

He looked at her, half-afraid of what was to come, before sliding her off his lap and crossing to the window. As soon as she spoke, he turned abruptly away and shut his eyes as if to ward the question off. "Michael, what was that voice?" 

His voice was hoarse. "What voice?" 

"When we dreamwalked you the last time, I heard a voice in the distance. I couldn't make out what it was saying, but it sounded...familiar somehow. And it frightened me. Isabel heard it too." She swallowed. "When you gave me those visions, I heard it again. Michael...it called you a killer." 

His face was blank, and could have been set in stone for all the animation in it. "I am one." 

Rising to her feet, she spit out an angry protest. "You are not a killer, Michael. I don't care who tells you that, don't you believe them. You did what you had to do, to save Sheriff Valenti and the rest of us. That's all. You protected us. You're always protecting us." She studied him. "What is the voice, Michael?" 

"I don't know," he admitted. "It doesn't tell me that." 

"Do you...How often do you hear it?" 

His forehead wrinkled as he let out a small burst of humorless laughter. "How often? Try all the time." 

"What?" 

"It's always there, in the back of my head, telling me things. Ever since I've been back, it's been there." 

"And before then--it was in your dreams, where Isabel and I heard it?" she asked in a small voice. 

He shifted uncomfortably, but answered. "Yeah." Maria's face wrinkled in concern, and he told her, "Don't worry about it. I can handle it." 

"You have too much to handle as it is, Michael. How is it that you're still sane?" 

He ran unsteady fingers through his hair. "Sane? Who says I am?" He focused for a moment on the ceiling, then swung his gaze around the room, looking at anything but the girl on the couch. The words began to pour from his mouth. "Half the time I think I'm going crazy, the other half I'm pretty sure I already am. I mean, I have two complete sets of memories for the same month of my life. I can remember being here, and I can remember being in wherever that room was, all at the same time, and my brain can hardly hang on to it. Add to that the constant barrage from the voice in my head, and the fact that I keep losing track of where I am--I'll be sitting there and the next thing you know it's ten minutes later and I have no idea what happened--Hell, no. There's no way I am anywhere remotely approaching sane." 

"Well, for god's sake don't sign yourself into the asylum yet, buddy," Maria said stoutly. "You've been through an awful lot lately, stuff that would throw anybody. Put all that on top of some of the other things I saw--" He tensed, but she continued, "I wouldn't worry about being crazy if I were you. I'd be pretty darn proud to have pulled through things as well as you have." 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Michael turned once more to the window and stared out. Crossing, Maria stood behind him. "You do know that they'll have to be told eventually, don't you?" She could practically feel him wanting to expurgate that particular notion, but went on firmly. "Not everything. Just like I told Isabel, some things are private. But at some point, they'll need to know that you're back." A smile bloomed on her face. "Can you believe how great Alex was, not letting on? I mean, c'mon, a grease fire? Max couldn't argue with it, because the same thing happened to his mother last year. You've got to hand it to Alex, he's always the guy with the quick save." 

"Yeah." His voice was low. 

"He's a good friend, is Alex. And I will be too. I'll be there for you, you know? I mean, I'd like to talk about it sometime, about what's happened to you, and about what I saw...I'll try not to push you, though. But I'll be around if you need to talk or something." She smiled. "I'll make a deal with you--you watch my back and I'll watch yours." 

"You shouldn't have to deal with my problems," he muttered. 

Flinging her hands into the air, Maria let out a shriek of frustration. "Michael, that's what friends do. They care about each other. It's what the six of us are all about. So are we agreed? I'll let you help me and you'll let me help you?" 

"I...I don't know if I can." She turned away, disappointed. A quiet voice stopped her. "I'll try," he said hesitantly. "But don't expect too much. I'm not good at that kind of stuff. Letting people...help." 

Relieved, she felt a grin attach itself to her face. "Well, not everybody's perfect, Michael. Which is okay. I mean, if I wanted perfection I wouldn't be hanging out with you, would I? I'd be...I'd be...well, actually, I'd be pretty much out of luck trying to find someone to meet those standards, don't you think? So stop being so hard on yourself already. You're only human." 

"But I'm not," he pointed out. 

"Yes you are," she answered fervently. "In all the ways that matter, you are. And that's not such a bad thing to be, Michael."  
  
TBC...  
  



	31. Masques: Chapter 31

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 31_

Alex stood in the DeLuca kitchen and watched Isabel pace, her face tense. Max and Liz spoke quietly together; she seemed to be reassuring him about something or other. Probably that it would be all right, that she knew Maria and could tell that she needed this time alone with Michael. Alex could guess what the dynamic duo in the living room were arguing about--uh, discussing. He wished now he hadn't been so quick to blurt out another excuse for Michael, but Maria had looked so panicked. Probably for Michael's sake. So he'd opened his mouth and the lie had come pouring out before he could even realize what he was doing. 

Michael was back. Actually, it wasn't that hard to see even without an admission from him. He was acting way too emotional for the ice-cold personality he'd shown them all over the last month. Alex hoped that no one else would realize it until Michael was ready to come clean. And he hoped that that time would be very, very soon. 

And not only was Michael wide-band broadcasting every emotion he was feeling, he had given Maria visions. So much for having no powers, huh? Another sure sign that the brooding alien was back again. He supposed they were lucky that Michael's loss of emotional control hadn't spread to his powers, or he could have accidentally trashed Maria's house. And, eclectic though the décor was, Alex didn't think any of it would be improved by being blown up. 

With a sigh, he reached for a can of root beer that was sitting with some other drinks on the counter. The DeLucas usually kept a supply of it for when he came over. Flipping open the top, he ignored the glasses that were set out and took a swig. Unfortunately, it didn't do much to ease his troubled mind. It was just root beer, after all, not some miracle elixir. 

Looking around the room, he watched Liz, mid-sentence in quiet conversation with Max. They both seemed so sure of themselves, so in control. Ready to do whatever was necessary. They made quite a contrast with Isabel, who was moving restlessly around the room like a very large tiger in a very small cage. 

Max's eyes also focused on his sister. "Iz?" he asked. "What's wrong?" 

She ceased her pacing, and frowned. "Do you get the feeling something's wrong?" 

"Of course. That's why we're here, to talk about it," Max assured her. 

"No, not that," she said, brushing it aside. "There's more to it than Maria's threatening notes and Michael's missing personality parts. Don't you get the feeling something is...different?" 

"Different how?" 

"Different with Michael." She looked uneasily around the room. "When I healed him, I didn't get any flashes. I mean, I didn't see anything, but I got the feeling there was something going on. He felt...shadowed." 

"It could just be the other half of him coming through. They're connected somehow," Liz reminded her. 

"Maybe." 

Alex tensed. He knew better. If Michael was already back--and he was, Alex knew it--then what was causing Isabel's uneasiness? 

Max looked thoughtful. "Was that why you were pushing to hear what Maria saw? To find out if she'd gotten the same feeling?" Isabel nodded, and he continued, "I thought it was a little strange. I mean, usually it's Michael prodding us to find answers, not the other way around." 

"But that's just it, Max," Isabel burst out. "He's not like that, not any more. He doesn't seem to care about anything now. Except keeping Maria safe." Tears welled up in her eyes. "It's not that I'm jealous of that, honestly. I'm glad that she's a link for him to hold on to. It's just that..." Her voice trailed into a whisper. "I miss him, Max. I miss the real Michael." 

Crossing to his sister, Max hugged her tightly. "I know, Izzy. So do I." 

Alex began to mentally pummel himself. If he hadn't stepped in to help Michael out, the alien would have been forced to tell the truth, ready or not. And Isabel wouldn't be crying right now. She might be yelling at her almost-brother, sure, but she wouldn't be weeping on Max's shoulder. Not cool, collected Queen Isabel. Miserably, he looked away from the brother and sister. Liz's voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"We'll get him back, you know," she said firmly. "The situation isn't hopeless. I mean, he gave Maria visions. So his powers aren't completely cut off. That's a step in the right direction, isn't it?" 

Alex snuck uneasy glances at the other three. That was more than a step in the right direction. If they kept heading down that path, they'd realize what was really going on, and then the alien shit would really hit the fan. And he honestly didn't know if Michael could handle that right now... 

Luckily, he was saved from having to take any action by a knock on the door.  
  


*****

Michael stared down at the pixie girl in front of him. Human, she said he was. In all the ways that mattered. But he knew better. He was alien, too. After all, he was designed, wasn't he? And by someone who'd really botched up the job. 

Maria looked anxiously at him. She couldn't read his thoughts exactly, but thanks to the visions he'd given her, was pretty sure she could guess what he was thinking. And it wasn't going to help much. 

There was a knock on the archway leading into the hall, and Alex stuck his head inside. "Pizza's here," he announced. "Do you want it in here or the kitchen?" 

"What?" said Maria, startled. "Oh...I don't care. In here, I guess. We may as well be comfortable while we eat." Alex turned to go, but stopped when she said his name. "Alex? Thank you for helping us before." 

He stopped and said wryly, "I'm not sure it did much good. They know something's up." As Michael's jaw clenched, he explained, "They don't know yet. Or at least no one's brought it up. But Isabel could tell something was different when she healed you, Michael. Besides, you haven't exactly been low-profile with your emotions, and you used your supposedly non-working powers to give Maria visions. It's not going to be long before they realize what's happened. You should tell them before they figure it out on their own," he advised. 

"I can't. Not now. It's bad enough that you two know," Michael said hoarsely. "I'll tell them, I will, but not yet. When I can deal with it." He looked Alex in the eye, and managed an unaccustomed, "Please." 

"Give us some time," Maria begged. 

Knowing he'd probably regret it even more that he already did, Alex nodded, but he left the room with a warning. "There's not a lot of time left." 

Maria watched him uneasily as he left, then turned to Michael. "Okay, the ball's in your court, Spaceboy. How do you want to handle things?" 

"Let's just get through this meeting. I'll worry about the rest later." 

"You mean _we'll_ worry about the rest later," she corrected. 

"I don't want you getting any more involved with this than you already are," Michael declared. "I shouldn't have shown you anything before. It was a mistake." 

Maria looked up at him. "Well, you did and I'm glad. I think it'll help me understand you better." 

"Maybe I don't want to be understood," he retorted. 

Laughing, Maria reached up and patted his cheek. "Don't worry, you'll still do plenty of things that will be a total mystery to me. And they won't have anything to do with your alien status, either--they'll come straight from your being a guy." She turned and headed to the doorway. "Come and help me carry in some drinks and stuff, okay?" she said and he slowly followed her into the kitchen. 

A short while later the six regrouped back in the living room with pizza, drinks, and a bottle of Tabasco sauce which Max found in the Jeep. For a while there was silence as everyone dug in, but eventually, Isabel couldn't stand it any longer. 

"Well, are we going to talk about what happened or not?" she burst out. 

"Let's stick to the outline we set up last night," Max suggested. "We need to come up with an action plan to deal with the notes Maria's been getting, and then figure out how to get Michael back to himself. Then we'll talk about anything else we need to." 

"You and your outlines," Isabel grumbled. "I bet you have it all written out somewhere and color-coded, don't you?" 

"The color-coding would be Liz's contribution," Maria told her blithely. "She likes to be over-organized." Liz rolled her eyes, and Maria hurriedly reassured the taller girl. "Don't worry about it, Isabel. We've got plenty of time to talk about whatever we need to. My mom won't be home for hours yet." 

Taking charge, Max asked, "Okay, anyone have any ideas who might be behind the notes?" 

"Someone who doesn't like me very much," commented Maria wryly. 

"Or someone who doesn't like something you've done," added Liz. "Remember the second note: 'You won't get away with it.' What won't you get away with?" 

"How should I know?" 

"Well, what have you done that's unusual?" 

"Nothing. I go to school, rehearsal, and work, and I fight with Michael. Nothing new there." 

"It doesn't make sense." 

Maria frowned. "I'm still not sure it really has to do with me. I mean, the stuffed alien--you three have got to have more enemies than I do." 

"But why would anyone attack us through you?" asked Isabel. "Why not come directly to us?" No one had any good ideas about that one. 

"Well, I don't know what else we can do, except to keep an eye out. And be very, very careful. We can't afford to take any risks," said Max. 

The others agreed. Thoughtfully, Liz added, "Maybe we ought to step up the Maria watching detail. I mean, no offense to Alex or to me, but it might be good to have someone with powers around her as much as possible. Just in case." 

Isabel nodded. It made sense. "Well, Maria, I guess I'm your new best friend. Max and I will split up as much of the time as possible." 

"Don't forget about Michael," Maria said stoutly. "He's done a pretty good job keeping me out of trouble so far." 

Michael, his face stony, looked away. "Yeah, so far under my watch you've gotten a bunch of harassing notes and broken bones. So much for my doing a good job." 

"I trust you." The statement was calm and entirely honest. 

He shook his head. "Liz is right. You should have Max or Isabel to protect you. It's safer that way." 

"Michael," she said pointedly. 

He knew what she was trying to tell him. "No, Maria, it's no use. I can't control my powers, remember? The last thing we need is to have me blow you up. I won't take a chance on hurting you." 

"That didn't stop you from lurking around before!" she snapped, incensed. "So why is it any different now?" 

"Because I didn't have my powers then!" he roared back at her. "I couldn't use them, remember? And now--" he cut off abruptly, seeing the two other aliens and one human looking at him very interestedly. Alex was sitting, his eyes closed, half in resignation and half in relief. 

"What's going on, Michael?" Max said softly. "You told us you couldn't use your powers." 

Maria held her breath. Michael looked trapped, and she had no idea how to help him out of this one. She watched uneasily as the frustration began to build on Max's face. "Michael," he said in warning. 

Michael looked at him for a minute and then moved abruptly to the window, his old taciturn self. He said nothing, but the set tenseness of his shoulders reminded her how unready he was for this confrontation. And yet she could tell that Max wasn't going to let him get away with it this time. She would just have to shield him as best she could. From her place on the couch, Maria answered. "It's Michael. He's back." 

"Is this true?" asked Isabel in excitement. 

Michael didn't turn towards them, remaining facing the window and the encroaching twilight, as if he would rather be there in the growing darkness than in the cozy warmth of the DeLuca living room. But he spoke. One word. "Yeah." 

"But how? When did this happen?" she rushed on. 

Still facing away from them, he muttered something too unintelligible for them to understand. Standing, Max called him on it. "What was that, Michael?" 

His voice came again, a bit more clearly this time. "Couple of days ago." 

"_What?_ " Max burst out incredulously. 

Maria decided to step in. "The last dreamwalk. It actually worked," she said matter-of-factly. "I figured it out this afternoon when I saw his arm. He burnt it trying to use his powers in the round room, and when he came back, he brought the burns with him too. That's how I knew he was himself again." 

Liz looked appraisingly at Alex. "So there was no grease fire?" He had the grace to look ashamed as he shook his head. 

"It was my fault," Maria told her. "Alex knew I didn't want to let the news out yet, so he helped me cover it up. It's not his fault--he was just being a good friend." 

"It wasn't your fault either, Maria," said Max, trying to control the anger in his voice. "You figured it out today, you said? Well, who kept it a secret from Saturday until today? That's four days, Michael," he pointed out. 

"I really don't think--" Maria began. 

"No, I put the blame where it belongs. What is going on with you, Michael?" Max said directly to his friend's back. "How could you keep this a secret from us? And worse, how could you drag Maria and Alex into lying for you?" 

"He didn't drag us into it, Max. We did it on our own," Maria put in defiantly. 

"He may not have asked directly, but that doesn't mean he didn't get you to do it. Michael, how could you use them like that? They're your friends. How can you possibly excuse that? Don't you think things are bad enough already, without you adding to the problem?" 

Michael swung around to look Max directly in the eye. "Don't stop now, Max. Go ahead and finish. You won't be saying anything I haven't already said to myself." 

"I very strongly doubt that. What were you thinking?" Max retorted. "I don't understand you. You say you're back. Well, the Michael I know might get into a lot of trouble, but he wouldn't cause this mess. He wouldn't lie to us, much less use his friends this way." 

Michael snapped. 

"What would you know about it, Max? Alien or not, you've always lived in your perfect little world with your perfect little life and your perfect family. Hell, you've always _been_ perfect. The strong one. The one who can handle anything. What the hell would you know about who I am? You think you know what my life is like, what it's like to be me, but you can't know. Nobody can." Moving to him, Maria took his hand and squeezed it tightly. 

"Even you," he told her, pulling away. "I don't know what you saw, but it's not the same as living through it. Knowing you're flawed, that something was broken in you when you were born. Knowing that however much you try, you'll always be a fuckup. You can't ever understand." 

Once again his eyes met Max's. "I don't want you feeling sorry for me though, Max. It's not your fault. How could it be? It's just the way things are," he said bitterly. "But don't think for a minute that you can get even a fraction of what I am." 

From across the room, Alex quietly warned, "Michael." The alien's attention flashed over to the hapless teen and then followed Alex's gaze down to his own hands. They were starting to glow. 

With a muffled curse, Michael bolted for the door, intent on escape before he hurt someone. He came to a halt just before he reached the doorway, and facing away from them, he said hoarsely, "Will one of you stay here until Mrs. DeLuca gets home?" 

"I'll stay," volunteered Alex immediately. 

"So will I," Isabel added. "We're keeping someone with powers around, remember?" 

With a curt nod, Michael was out of the living room. A few seconds they heard a door slam and the sound of running footsteps fading into the distance. And then there was complete silence. 

Finally Max cleared his throat. "Well, I--" 

"Get out." Maria's voice was quiet and controlled, but it still caused Max to look over at her, startled. "I think you had better leave, Max." 

"Maria, I--" he began. 

She shook her head. "No. No. You need to leave. Michael left because he didn't want to hurt anyone, but right now, I am not feeling quite that charitable. So unless you want to use your healing powers on yourself, I suggest you get out now before I decide to ignore Michael's good example and do you bodily harm." She looked at him, her face rigid but her eyes blazing. 

"Why don't you walk me home, Max?" asked Liz gently. "That way Isabel still has the Jeep and can drive Alex home once Mrs. DeLuca is back. All right?" 

Max looked around the room. Catching his sister's eye, some communication seemed to pass between them, and he nodded. "All right, Liz." 

"Good." Crossing to Maria, Liz gave her a supportive hug. "Call me when you want to talk, okay?" The blonde girl nodded. "Come on, Max. Let's go." 

He allowed Liz to take his arm, but stopped before taking more than a step. "Maria, I--" he began again. 

"No. I don't want to hear any more. Not tonight. Please," she said. Her voice began to wobble. 

"You can talk to her tomorrow, Max," Liz said firmly. Putting her hand on his arm, she pulled him from the room. 

Her voice trembling, Maria told the remaining two, "You can stay until Mom gets back if you want. I'm going to bed." Alex looked at his watch as she left the room. It was 7:13. 

Isabel looked nervously at him. "What just happened?" she asked in disbelief. 

For once, Alex had no answers.  
  
TBC...  
  



	32. Masques: Chapter 32

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 32_

Isabel and Alex were still sitting, lost in thought, when a car pulled up and dropped Amy DeLuca off several hours later. She came in through the kitchen, dropping her purse on the counter. "Maria?" she called. 

Rising, Alex greeted her as she stuck her head in the living room. "Hi, Mrs. DeLuca." 

"Hi, Alex, Isabel," she responded warmly. "How was dinner?" 

"Fine, thanks, Mrs. DeLuca," responded Isabel politely. 

Looking around, her face wrinkled in puzzlement, Amy asked, "So where's the hostess?" 

"Actually, Maria wasn't feeling too well--" Isabel began. 

Alex added, "She had a headache or something." 

"--so she went to bed. We just stayed to make sure she was all right, until you got home," finished Isabel. 

"Just the two of you?" Amy said, a hint of suspicion in her tone. 

"Yeah. The others left a while ago." 

Amy nodded. "Thanks for looking out for her." 

"No problem, Mrs. DeLuca. I guess we'll head out now," said Alex. 

"Come on Alex, I'll give you a ride home." Isabel grabbed her purse and headed for the door. "Mrs. DeLuca?" 

"Yes, Isabel?" 

"Will you please tell Maria we'll see her tomorrow?" 

"I sure will. Thanks again." 

The two teenagers were soon gone, and Amy headed to Maria's room. The door was shut, and she opened it slowly, not wanting to wake her daughter if she was asleep. Maria was curled up in bed, huddled under a blanket even though the house wasn't cold. In the light from the hallway, Amy could see the old, faded pajamas that she had climbed into. The flannel, which had once sported little sheep all over it, was the nightwear version of a security blanket; Maria only wore them when she needed a little extra comfort. 

Not wanting to disturb her daughter's rest, Amy began to pull the door closed. A wan voice stopped her. "Hi, Mom." 

"Hi, honey," Amy returned, crossing to the bed. "Alex said you weren't feeling well." 

"I'm all right." 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Amy stroked the tousled head on the pillow. "Are you sure? You don't sound too good." 

"I told you, I'm fi--" Maria's voice broke at that word. "Fine. I'm fine," she managed, then sat up into the comfort of her mother's arms. Amy held her as she sobbed silently. 

"Oh, honey," she said, rubbing Maria's back gently. "Shhhh. Shhhhh." When the girl's sobs began to lessen, Amy wiped her damp cheeks off with the corner of the blanket. "What happened tonight? Did you and your friends have a fight?" 

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom," Maria sniffed. 

Amy stiffened as an unwelcome thought popped into her head. That Guerin boy had been here, the one that had already broken her daughter's heart at least once. "Did...did someone hurt you, Maria?" 

"No. I'm fine." Maria pulled back as she realized what her mother was asking. "You mean Michael, don't you?" she stated, looking into Amy's concerned face. "You think that Michael hurt me." 

"I only thought that--" 

"Michael would _never_ hurt me. Not on purpose," Maria said fervently. "Don't ever think that." 

"I'm sorry, honey. I just saw that you're upset, and I'm worried for you. I'm your mother, so it's allowed. I don't like to see you hurting." 

"I am hurting. But not from Michael, _for_ Michael," Maria whispered. "Tonight, we talked, and he...he let me into his life more than he ever has before, and...Oh, Mom." She swallowed, trying to clear the lump from her throat. "Did you know that Michael is an emancipated minor now?" 

"I heard something about that, yes," her mother said. 

"Did you also hear anything about his last foster home?" 

Amy shrugged. "Only that his foster father left town. Jim Valenti mentioned something about it when it happened, I think." 

"Hank--that was his foster father--used to drink. A lot," Maria faltered. "And when he did, he would..." She gripped her mother's hand tightly. "He would hurt Michael," she finished in a whisper. Amy was silent. 

"I knew it had happened," her daughter went on, forcing the words out. "But I didn't know how...bad it really was. Tonight, he let me see what his life was really like." 

"Oh, honey. I am so sorry." Amy tightened her grip around the woebegone girl. 

"I know you don't like him, Mom," Maria whispered. "But just think--if it weren't for you, that could have been me. But I always had you. Michael had nobody. It hurts. It hurts more that anything has ever hurt. And I can't fix it." She burrowed into her mother's arms, and Amy sat holding her, murmuring soft words of comfort. When the girl finally fell asleep, Amy pulled the blanket back up under her chin, tucking her in as she had when Maria was little. She sat, carefully and lovingly watching over her daughter, as Maria slept.  
  


*****

Maria looked listlessly at the lunch in front of her. Her mother had gotten up early to pack it for her, but even though Amy had included some of Maria's favorite foods, she couldn't seem to drum up any appetite for it. Maybe it was the uneasy sleep she'd had the night before, maybe it was the pop quiz they'd had in math third period, maybe it was how angry she'd been with Max the night before. 

Oh, who was she kidding? It was because Michael had been a no-show in English that morning, and she was worried about him. She'd been late to second period because she'd called his apartment, but he hadn't answered and the answering machine didn't pick up. She had no idea where he was, and in the state of mind he'd been in last night, she couldn't even begin to guess what he might be doing. 

A shadow falling over her pulled her out of her reverie. "Maria?" a hesitant voice said. "Can I talk to you?" She gave a short nod but didn't say anything further as Max sat down opposite her. "I'm sorry about last night. I shouldn't have gotten so angry," he began. 

She shrugged it off. "We shouldn't have kept it a secret, anyway. Besides, we were all angry last night, Max. It wasn't just you." 

"I know. But I'm still sorry." 

"You don't need to tell me that. You need to tell Michael." 

Max flushed. "I would, but it looks like he's cutting school today." 

"I know. I tried calling him, but he's not answering," she said. 

He gave a noncommittal grunt. After a few moments of silence, she tried to change the subject. "So where is everybody?" 

"I uh...I asked them to give us some space so I could talk to you," he admitted. 

"So, you're talking. Now what?" she asked. 

"Maria, I need to ask you something. About Michael." 

She gave a shrug. "I'll answer whatever I can without betraying Michael's trust." 

Max looked at her intently. "Why did you ask Isabel to heal Michael's arm? She can do it, but I'm more experienced, and...I've been thinking about it, and it really bothers me that you wouldn't let me help." 

"It wasn't anything you did, Max. I know you're really great at it--I've got the ankle to prove it. But I had to look at it from Michael's point of view, and right now, he doesn't need any more reminders that you are a healer." She met his eyes squarely. "He hasn't been able to deal with killing Pierce, yet. And remember what he said that day? You heal people and he kills them. He can't help but compare himself to you, and in his eyes, he always comes out behind." 

"That's ridiculous," Max burst out. 

"You know that and I know that," Maria told him. "But Michael is so wrapped up in blaming himself that he can't think about it objectively. He can only feel. And what he feels--Max, I don't think you have any idea of all the weight he's carrying around. It's not just Pierce, you know. It goes back much further than that." 

She sighed. "I'm not even sure that I can appreciate how bad things have been for him, and I saw a whole lot of it--in a Technicolor direct feed with surround sound, no less. And you know what? I am so terribly proud of him. He's been through so much, Max. A weaker person would have cracked a long time ago, but not Michael. He has swallowed almost everything that's ever been done to him, so it wouldn't draw attention to the three of you, so he wouldn't get in anyone else's way. 

"He looks up to you, so much. Use it, Max. Help him see how special he is, how he deserves so much more than he's been given. Because as much as I love him, I don't know if that's enough to get through to him." Maria looked down at the table in front of her and spoke in a low tone. "He is so focused on his alien side--maybe it has to come from you and Isabel. I don't know," she said with a sigh. Looking directly into Max's eyes, she pleaded, "Please don't let him down, Max." 

Max was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "I'll try not to. But it's so hard for me to read him lately. He was never exactly open, but I still used to be able to tell what he was thinking. I knew what to expect." He sighed. "Now it's not that simple." 

Maria looked at him gently. "You get older, and things become more complicated. It happens to everyone, Max. Even Czechoslovakians." She smiled sadly. "I have the feeling that, impressions aside, Michael was always pretty complex. He just didn't let anyone see it before." 

Max considered this, thinking rapidly. "Do you think it would help him to talk about it? What's happened to him, I mean. Izzy and I knew he had things rough, but maybe we only touched the surface of it. Maybe talking about it would help." 

"I'm not sure he'll ever be able to open up that much about things, Max." She shook her head. "It's hard enough getting him to tell you what he had for lunch yesterday--so talking about things that he's kept inside his whole life? I don't know. I'm not a psychiatrist. All I know to do is to support him as much as I can, and let him do things in his own time."  
  


*****

Night had long since fallen on Roswell that evening when Michael Guerin began the long walk from the Lift Off gas station to...well, he wouldn't really call it 'home', but it was the closest thing he had. He should actually be grateful to still have a job to come 'home' from, he supposed. His mind certainly hadn't been on pumping gas or the paying customers over the last few days. 

He could hardly believe he'd almost set his powers off on Max the night before. He'd been so angry, and the frustration and pain and rage that he was now living with on a daily basis had been too much. Actually, he was still angry with Max, but he was angrier at himself. How had he expected Max to react upon finding out that Michael had been keeping this secret from him? Pat him on the back and award him the Nobel Prize? Michael grunted sarcastically. 

Some second-in-command he was; he could have single-handedly wiped out his 'fearless leader'. Max had every right to be furious; he didn't. And yet he still felt the burning anger which he'd locked down within him. Enough so he hadn't taken a chance on seeing any of them that day. He'd skipped school, staying holed up in his apartment until he'd had to leave for work. The phone had rung twice--once when first period would have been over and once at the end of the school day. Both times, the caller had hung on until the twentieth ring, but Michael had purposely turned off his answering machine. He didn't need to hear a message to know who was calling anyway. 

Maria. Michael's lips twisted in a scowl as the image of the pixie girl popped into his head. She had surprised him with her determination to stand up for him, to try and make things easier for him, when he knew she was dying to press him about what she'd seen in the visions. 

He groaned. Why had he tried to show her things anyway, when he knew he couldn't control what she saw? Even Max didn't seem to be able to consistently control what visions he gave, so why did Michael expect to be able to do any better? He didn't know what Maria had gotten from the flashes, besides the voice she'd heard, but he suspected it was pretty grim. There wasn't much he could show her that wasn't. 

The night was quiet, and he could hear his footsteps echoing down the deserted street. The moment he became aware of their ring, another sound began to resonate in his head, drowning out the sound of his feet. The voice was back. Not that it wasn't always there anyway, but at times he seemed able to push it back out of his mind into a dull roar in the back of his brain. Not now, though. It shouted in his ears, pulling him inward until he was hopelessly awash in the sound. In the word. 

_Killer._

_Killer._

_killer killer killer killer killer..._

Michael's feet unwillingly slowed to a hesitant shuffle and then stopped. Staring at nothing, his brain resounded with the mind-numbing sound. Floundering around, looking for anything to latch onto to take away the word that hammered at him, Michael searched for one tiny little bit of light in the otherwise murky nightmare world he was lost in. And he found it. 

A tiny sliver of memory, cutting through the sound and pain. Maria, telling him he wasn't a killer, that he shouldn't listen to anyone who told him he was. 

With a start, he pulled away from the place in which his mind had been stuck. Blinking rapidly, he ran his fingers through his spiky hair and looked apprehensively around him. 

Why had he been able to remember that? Not that he wasn't grateful that he had--usually it took someone else to bring him out of it, and if there was no one around, he could be sunk in a trance-like state for hours. In fact, he'd gotten stuck in one the night he'd first come back, when the voice had practically brought him to his knees in the middle of the street. Somehow he had made it back to his apartment, sinking in a daze to the floor, and he hadn't known who or where he was until a day and a half later. The far-off ringing of his phone had slowly brought him back to his senses, out of the dark, overwhelming nightmare where it had just been him and the voice. He'd pulled himself together only to realize that he'd lost a good thirty-six hours and that, barring any efforts from Alex, Maria had been unguarded all that time. 

Grimacing, Michael hoped that the vision hadn't shown Maria just how weak and ineffectual he had been during that period. Of course, with his luck, that's probably just what she had seen... 

Michael's roving eyes finally latched onto the thing that had enabled his escape from the voice this time. He must have seen it without knowing it, and his brain had processed the image into a weapon to free him. There, in the distance, pulled crookedly onto the side of the road, was a red Jetta. The DeLuca Jetta. Maria's Jetta. 

With his heart pounding, Michael sprinted for the car. Was she in some sort of trouble? She must be, or why would her car be here this late at night? Nearing the automobile, he called her name, only to stop short as he caught sight of the person inside. Instead of the golden-crowned head he was expecting to see, he saw a fall of rich brown hair. Not Maria after all, but Maria's mother. 

Her arms were on the steering wheel and her head was bowed down over them. She wasn't moving. Tapping on the window, Michael said, "Mrs. DeLuca?" 

With a jerk, Amy's head shot up and she looked wildly around. "Who's there?" she cried out. 

"Just me. Michael Guerin," he answered, and her face tightened for a moment before she relaxed with a sigh. 

Unrolling the window, she tried to look calm. "Michael?" 

"Yeah. Are you okay, Mrs. DeLuca?" 

"Oh, I'm great. Unfortunately, my car is not," she said in a wry tone. "As you can see, it has decided to take a vacation." 

Michael hesitated, taking in the tiredness in her eyes. "Can I...can I do anything to help?" 

Her eyes raised doubtfully to his. "I don't suppose you're a whiz in auto shop, by any chance?" 

Michael's lips pressed together in a thin line before he answered, "No, I'm not." That was an understatement. The last time he'd tried to fix the Jetta, he'd fried the engine. Max had to stop on the way back from Atherton's and fix it...Wait--Max. Max could probably fix this, the way he seemed to be able to fix everything else. Only trouble was, at this point Michael didn't feel he could ask him. Maria could, though. "But I have a friend who's pretty good with cars. Max Evans. You could have Maria ask him to take a look at it," he suggested. "Unless you want to call a tow truck." 

Amy looked away for a moment before saying airily, "Unfortunately, that's not in the budget this month." Michael watched her, struck by her strength. She was carrying on as if totally unbowed by any problems whatsoever. This must be where Maria got her spirit. 

He suddenly realized that she was watching him just as closely. Uncomfortably he shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of what to say. "Well, you could have Max look at it tomorrow, then," he finally managed. "If it's not running, it should be safe to leave it here. No one will be able to steal it." 

Her eyebrows rose. "Nobody in their right mind would _want_ to steal this car. But it doesn't matter. I'll stay with it." 

"All night?" he asked. "There's really no point to that, is there?" 

She frowned. "The point is that I have a huge box full of merchandise that I can't afford to lose. And while they might not be able to drive off in the car, they can break in and steal the box." Looking in the back seat, Michael did indeed see a large cardboard carton. "So I'll just stay. Someone will come along in the morning, I'm sure." She looked out the windshield as her hand unerringly reached for the handle and began to roll the window up. 

Shit. He couldn't leave her here. Not Maria's mother. Putting a hand on the window, he stopped it from closing completely. "Mrs. DeLuca? I could...I could carry the box for you. Make sure you got home okay." He didn't meet her eyes, half afraid she'd sneer at the offer. "It's a long way, I know, but at least you'd get home. Or," he continued as a new idea struck him, "I could walk you to a phone and you could call a friend, if you'd feel safer." 

Amy scrutinized him closely until he finally looked her in the eye. Seeming satisfied with what she read there, she stated, "I'd appreciate your help home. Thank you, Michael." He backed away so she could get gracefully out of the car and open the back door. He pulled the box cautiously out. 

"Be careful with that--that's my daughter's and my livelihood you've got in your hands." Michael immediately took an even firmer grip on the carton, as if it were all that stood between the DeLuca women and starvation. Which wasn't _quite_ the case. 

Locking the Jetta up, Amy glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy who was holding the box as if it contained something very precious. She gave him a considering look, but didn't say anything as together they started down the sidewalk. After a few blocks, she commented, "I'm sorry the box is so heavy." 

"It's okay." 

Determined to make some conversation, Amy said, "How did you happen to be out here tonight, anyway?" 

"I work at the Lift Off. I was on my way home," he said simply. She nodded. 

Another block or two of silence, and she said in amusement, "You don't talk very much, do you?" 

"No. Ma'am." 

Ma'am? Her eyebrows rose. What kind of delinquent would use the word Ma'am, unprompted? There was more to him than met the eye. "Well, I can understand that. What kind of conversation can you have with someone's mother, anyway?" Oops. She'd made a bad move there. The boy didn't have a mother--it was probably a sore spot for him. 

"I don't talk that much to anyone," Michael said quietly. 

"No wonder my daughter likes you," Amy joked, trying to gloss over her faux pas. "You don't compete with her for air time." She looked over at him, but he didn't so much as blink to acknowledge her jest. "Well, that fell flat," she said. "But you have to admit, she can be a chatterbox." 

He shrugged. 

"Which you, as you said, are not," Amy continued, then shook her head. Why did she feel so determined to make conversation with this brooding boy? Perhaps because of Maria's tearful confession last night. She didn't feel pity for him, exactly. She still disliked him on principle, for his influence on her daughter. But Maria wasn't stupid, and teenage trauma aside, she obviously saw something in this boy that other people--including Amy--didn't. And Amy wanted to know what that something was. Whether to understand her daughter better or to protect her from it, she wasn't sure; all she knew was that she needed to know more. So she tried again. 

"So you work at the Lift Off, Michael?" 

He nodded. 

"What else do you do? What interests you?" Besides her daughter. He shrugged. Well, this wasn't getting her anywhere. "You must be interested in something," she insisted. "Sports? Movies? Music?" Anything legal? "Come on, Michael. A conversation doesn't work if it's completely one-sided. Give me a hand here." 

He was obviously uncomfortable. So much for conversation... 

"Hockey. Action movies. Metallica." 

"What?" she said, startled that he'd responded. 

"The sports, movies and music that interest me," he explained patiently. "You asked." 

"So I did." She smiled. "So your idea of a good time would be a movie about a hockey-playing heavy metal musician in a car chase, huh?" 

"Wouldn't be too bad." 

She let out a peal of laughter. "You're an odd duck, Michael Guerin." He didn't show it on his face, but for some reason she got the feeling that this amused him. "So what do you do when you're not watching kung fu hockey flicks?" 

Michael racked his brain to come up with something to say. He could hardly say he spent his days preparing for an attack by enemy aliens, or protecting her daughter from an unknown stalker, could he? "I...uh...well, right now I'm building some puppets for the school musical." 

Well, well. He was working on Maria's play. Funny, her daughter hadn't mentioned this. "So, you're artistic?" 

"I guess," he answered in a low voice. 

"I'll look forward to seeing your handiwork on stage." They walked for a few minutes in silence. Finally, Amy broached the subject that was on both their minds. "Look, Michael, it probably won't come as a surprise to you that you are not exactly my favorite person. I don't think you are the best influence on Maria. She has a lot going for her; she could really succeed at something, and I don't want that to be ruined by her association with...with..." 

"A worthless piece of good-for-nothing jail fodder?" he put in dryly. 

"Well that's not exactly what I was thinking, but that was the basic idea, yes." He nodded, accepting the description. She continued thoughtfully, "But I don't think that's an entirely clear view of the picture. So you know what? I have decided to keep an open mind about you." 

He looked over at her, obviously surprised. 

"Somehow I suspect there is more to you than you show the world, although I think you've shown some of it to my daughter." She pretended not to notice how tightly his fingers were gripping the carton. "So until you give me reason not to, I think I'm going to cut you some slack. I will warn you though," she said, her voice rising, "you hurt her again, even the tiniest little bit, and I will kick your ass from here to California. Got that?" 

Michael nodded wordlessly. 

"And here we are," she said cheerfully as she turned the corner to the DeLuca home. "You can just set that down by the door." She turned and looked at him. "Thank you for your help tonight, Michael. It was very nice of you." He flushed, and she smiled inwardly. So being nice didn't go with his tough-guy image, did it? "Do you want to come in for a minute? Have a soda or something before you head home? Maria may still be up." 

In a flash, his face closed off. "No thanks, Mrs. DeLuca." 

"Sure?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "Well then, thank you again. Good night, Michael." 

He stood, poised for flight, but said, "Mrs. DeLuca?" 

"Yes?" 

"I don't...I don't want her hurt either," he said in a rush, then stood, discomposed, unable to meet her eyes. 

Amy smiled. "Well, then, we have something in common." His eyes raised to hers for one fleeting second; then, with a mumbled "Good night", he disappeared into the darkness. Amy watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face, before heading inside. She and Maria had some things to discuss.  
  
TBC...  
  



	33. Masques: Chapter 33

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 33_

Maria sat at their usual table, eyeing her lunch with little more interest than she had the day before. Her mind busy, she only half paid attention to the desultory conversation going on around her, chiming in with the occasional murmur of agreement when there was a pause. After one such assent, a snicker from Alex brought her attention back to the group. "What?" she asked, somewhat defensively. 

"You haven't been listening to a word we've said, have you?" asked Liz, trying to hold back a smile. 

"Sure I have. You were talking about...about..." 

"Maria," Alex said, his eyes dancing, "you just agreed to perform the next Whits gig dressed in your Crashdown uniform." 

"I did not!" she cried, aghast. 

"Oh, yes you did, and I've got witnesses," he returned, gesturing to Max and Liz. He shook his head in mock reproof. "Maria, Maria, Maria...you've got to learn to pay more attention when your friends are talking." 

She gave him a suspicious glare. "You set me up," she accused. 

"Guilty. But I'm still going to hold you to it." 

"But--" 

"Ah-ah-ah. Witnesses, remember?" 

Maria looked pleadingly at the two witnesses. "C'mon, guys, help me out here." Liz just smiled warmly at her, while Max shook his head. 

"Sorry, Maria, you agreed to it, and now you're kind of stuck." 

She glared around at the three of them for a moment before bursting into self-deprecating laughter. "Yeah, I guess I am, aren't I?" 

A voice spoke from behind her. "Aren't you what?" 

"Isabel," Alex greeted the newcomer with a smile. 

"And look who I brought with me," the tall blonde said. Maria didn't have to turn around to know Michael was standing there, probably looking pretty uneasy. Apprehension fought with excitement in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure which won. 

"Have a seat," offered Alex. Maria noticed the look that passed between brother and sister as Isabel sat down next to Max. Michael took the only other available seat, on the end next to Alex. She watched with bated breath as the spike-headed alien raised his chin defiantly at his designated leader. As far as she knew, the two hadn't spoken since Wednesday night, when tempers flew out of control. Maria hoped her talk with Max yesterday would help him to diffuse the situation, and that they weren't in for Alien Smackdown, Round Two. She wondered with trepidation if there was a fire extinguisher nearby. Just in case. 

Looking back at his second-in-command, Max spoke. "Hey, Michael." 

The response was concise, but not unfriendly. "Maxwell." 

Huh? That was it? Where was the shouting? The fireworks? The explosions? Maria could hardly believe it. Those two, they were...they were just...well, _guys_. 

She suddenly realized that five people were watching her sit there and grind her teeth. "What?" she asked no one in particular. 

"Maybe we should ask you that," said Isabel teasingly, "before you need an orthodontist. What's gotten you so wound up?" 

"It's not me," Maria protested. "It's your brother--and your _other_ brother--who are in the process of driving me absolutely insane!" She turned to the aliens in question. "Last I knew, you were, like, practically at each other's throats. When did you get to be so buddy-buddy? Would you make up your minds?" she yelped. "I mean, how the heck are we supposed to know what to expect?" 

"Maria, I--" Max began. 

"This is not the way arguments work. You are not supposed to just pretend it didn't happen! You're supposed to talk it over and hash things out, not ignore them. But oh no, not you two. God forbid you should do things the _normal_ way. Have you even spoken to each other since Wednesday night?" 

"No, but--" Max tried again. 

"Well, why not?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be in charge, Max, so why haven't you done something about it yet? Or didn't they cover arguments in Leadership 101?" She noticed a flash of amusement cross Michael's face before he hid it under his usual stony demeanor. "And you," she said, rounding on him, "You decide you can't speak to the rest of us, so you hide out and don't answer the phone, and then instead of talking things out with the people who care about you, you decide to spend quality time with MY MOTHER?" 

Four pairs of very interested eyes joined hers in staring at a suddenly ill at ease Michael. "She told you?" he muttered. 

"Of course she told me." 

"Oh." 

"What's going on?" asked Alex curiously. 

Michael pressed his lips together and refused to answer. 

"Oh, nothing much. Spaceboy here decided to play knight errant and rescue the damsel in distress--that would be my mother--when the Jetta broke down last night," explained Maria spiritedly. 

"Michael. How chivalrous of you," drawled Isabel, unsuccessfully holding in a smile. He ignored her, but wasn't able to ignore Maria, who was thoroughly enjoying her tale. 

"So there she is, stranded with a load of plastic and metal alien junk--excuse me, make that 'merchandise'--on the complete other side of town, when who should come along but Mr. 'Can't Get Involved'. Despite his unfriendly disposition, he not only proceeds to escort her all the way home, carrying said box of alien paraphernalia, but also..." she paused dramatically. The others leaned in, anticipating, and Maria's voice rang out importantly. "He also held an _entire conversation_ with her." 

Alex let out a low whistle as the others choked back laughter. 

"What?" said Michael crossly. "It's not a big deal. You wouldn't be harping on it if it'd been Max." 

"True," said Maria. "But it wasn't, it was you. And you were very sweet to help her." 

"I am not sweet." 

"Oh yes, you are," she teased. "Enough so that I don't even think my mother hates you any more." 

"_I am not sweet!_" he ground out. 

"Then you'd better stop behaving that way, sugar pie," she bantered, adding leadingly, "Too bad, though." 

He didn't bite. Alex, and his insatiable curiosity, did. "Why?" 

"Because the knight errant didn't claim his reward." Sliding off of the bench, she moved to Michael's side. "And since there's no way you're getting this from my mother, you'll have to settle for me." Placing her hand on his shoulder, she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Michael," she said sincerely. He blinked. 

"Well, well. Where do I get in line?" came a teasing voice from behind them. 

"Oh, hi, Mark. Sorry, only very special people qualify," Maria said airily. 

"I see. Well, Guerin, you're a lucky guy." 

"Funny, that's what I keep telling him," laughed Maria, her eyes sparkling. "I'm not sure he quite believes me, though." 

"Well, if he gives you any trouble on that account, little lady, you just come see me. I'll give him a good talking-to," Mark said in his best John Wayne imitation. He turned to look at Michael and resumed his normal voice. "So, Guerin, I've authorized myself to come see how the plants are coming along." 

"They'll be ready when they're ready," said Michael abruptly. Standing, he looked over at Max. "Maria's right about one thing. We should talk, Maxwell." Giving a pointed look in Mark's direction, he added, "Later." Startled but glad, Max had just enough time to nod once before Michael stalked away from the table in the direction of the school building. 

Mark watched him go. "Well, I guess you can't rush artistic genius," he said with a smile. "Tell him my offer still stands if he needs some help." 

"Tell him yourself," Maria said with a sigh. "Somehow I don't think he's going to listen to me." Liz eyed Maria with sympathy as she sank back down on the bench next to Alex. 

Ignoring her sudden descent into the blues, Mark smiled cheerily at her. "See you at rehearsal then, Maria." 

"Yeah, sure," she responded absently. 

Putting a hand on her shoulder, Mark leaned over and whispered in her ear. "And I wouldn't worry too much about Guerin," he said. "If he doesn't want to listen to that golden voice, it's his loss." 

Liz watched him walk away, speculating madly as to his motives. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to her morose friend and demanded, "What was that all about?" 

"What?" 

"Mark. Was he actually _flirting_ with you? 

"What? Mark? Of course not," Maria denied. 

"It sure looked like it to me," said Isabel. "And I suspect it looked like it to my 'other' brother, too." 

"That's ridiculous. Mark's just friendly, that's all," objected Maria. "You're imagining things." 

"Oh really?" said Isabel. "Hands up, those who thought he was being just a little _too_ friendly." Three hands immediately shot up to join hers in the air. 

"You're all delusional," Maria said stubbornly. Pushing her uneaten lunch back in her bag, she rose to leave. 

"You're not going to eat?" questioned Liz. 

"Not hungry." Maria plucked at the strap of her bookbag. "I'm going to the library to work on my term paper. Might as well get something worthwhile done." 

"I'll walk that way with you," Isabel offered. "I've got some research to do, too." As the two headed back across the quad, she studied the shorter girl. "Don't worry too much. Michael will get over it." 

"I'm not so sure he will," Maria answered in a gloomy voice. 

"It was just one little bit of flirtation--" began Isabel. 

"For the last time, Mark was not flirting with me, and I certainly wasn't flirting with him!" Maria cried in exasperation. "And that's not why Michael's upset with me, anyway." 

"Are you sure about that?" 

"Yes, I'm sure. The reason he's upset is that for once he let me in a little bit, and now he's all paranoid about it. Every time I make any progress with him, he shuts down again." 

"You're important to him, and that makes him uncomfortable," commented Isabel. 

"Yeah, well, so do chick flicks, wet sneakers and chocolate cake with no Tabasco sauce." 

"Oh, come on, Maria. You're not nearly as bland as Tabasco-free chocolate," Isabel said, poker-faced. 

"Gee, Isabel, that's helpful." Maria was silent for a minute, then added, "And that's only on top of all the other things he's going through. Believe me, being uncomfortable with me is the least of Michael's worries."  
  


*****

Max was heading across the parking lot when he noticed a familiar figure sitting on the hood of the Jeep. It was Michael, and he looked like he'd been there a while. He was leaning forward, knees bent, with his arms draped across his knees. Something about his posture reminded Max of a much younger Michael, both hesitant and belligerent at the same time. 

Michael looked up at his approach. His expression was, as usual, shuttered, and his eyes gave off no hint of his mood. Sliding off the hood, he spoke first. "Max." 

"How long have you been sitting out here?" asked Max in a friendly tone. 

"Didn't feel like going to last period." 

"You don't usually hide out in plain sight," Max commented. "You're lucky you didn't get caught." Michael shrugged, then looked off into the distance past Max, who relaxed. For the first time in a long, long time, he felt he actually knew what was going on in his tall friend's head. Maybe not the particulars, but the gist of it anyway. Michael had something to say, and was searching for words. "What can I do for you, Michael?" asked Max, very openly. Maybe his friend was finally ready to talk. He could hope, anyway. 

The answer wasn't at all what he expected. "Did Maria talk to you about the Jetta?" Michael asked abruptly. 

"No, what about it?" 

Michael was silent for a moment, then spoke, not meeting Max's eyes. "I thought maybe you could look at it. Fix it. Like you did on the trip back from Marathon." 

Caught by surprise, Max didn't answer. Michael shifted uncomfortably and went on, "I don't know what's wrong with it, but I don't think Mrs. DeLuca has the money to get it fixed. So I thought maybe you could look at it." 

Max knew what he had just heard, but still could hardly believe it. Michael Guerin, paranoiac extraordinaire, had just asked him to use his powers. In public. And for a human, no less. The tense set of his friend's jaw reminded Max that he'd better answer, and fast. "Sure, I'll take a look." He caught the almost imperceptible relaxation of Michael's shoulders, and smiled inwardly. Maybe now was a good time to try and mend some fences with his prickly friend. "Why don't you come, too?" he suggested. "You can show me where the Jetta is--and keep an eye out to make sure no one sees me using my powers." 

Michael nodded. 

"Well, if we're both out there, we'd better make sure Isabel's got Maria covered," Max thought aloud. 

"She was going to sit in the back and watch Maria's rehearsal," said Michael. 

"Good. We should probably let her know where we'll be, and she can tell Maria and Alex. Do you want--" 

The answer came rushing out before Max had time to finish the question. "No." 

"Okay," responded Max. "I'll go talk to her. I'll be back in a few minutes." 

When he returned, mission accomplished, Michael was nowhere to be seen. Tossing his books in the back of the Jeep in mild exasperation, Max settled in for what might turn out to be a long wait. He couldn't even go take a look at the Jetta by himself; Michael hadn't told him where it was. 

It wasn't very long before his friend reappeared and swung himself into the passenger seat. Max gave him a questioning look, but Michael kept his mouth shut, other than to give a few terse directions to the Jetta's location. Deciding not to press him, Max silently followed Michael's directions across town to the broken-down automobile. 

As they pulled up behind it, Michael's face grew grim. The car looked even more decrepit than it had the night before, thanks to the now slashed tires, which had it listing drunkenly to one side. 

Climbing out of the Jeep, Max surveyed the wounded Jetta. "I thought you said it broke down," he commented mildly. 

"It did. This is new," Michael stated, audibly angry. 

"Well, keep an eye out," Max instructed, leaning down to begin the repairs to the worn tires. With a grunt, Michael began to observe their surroundings, looking for anyone--or anything--suspicious.  
  


*****

Gathering her script and pencil and pushing them into her bookbag, Maria let out a tired sigh. It had been another productive but tiring rehearsal. They'd ended up running the 'Somewhere That's Green' scene between her and the doo-wop girls a number of times at the end of the rehearsal; for once, Mark and Dennis got to leave early while Ms. Bedinger concentrated on the female cast members. 

All during rehearsal, Maria had been aware of Isabel sitting quietly at the back of the auditorium. This time Maria hadn't felt annoyed by having a baby-sitter; somehow the alien's presence was almost as comforting as Alex's. 

Bookbag in hand, she waved to the bass player, then walked up the aisle to the back of the auditorium where Isabel was waiting. As Maria neared, the alien rose gracefully to her feet. 

"Hi, Isabel," said Maria, "So you're on duty, huh? What?" she added with a grin, "Did you draw the short straw or something?" 

Isabel smiled back at her. "Well, it wasn't exactly like that. Max and Michael went to take a look at the Jetta." 

Maria raised her eyebrows. "My mom said something about asking Max if he could fix it--somehow she's gotten the idea that he's an auto mechanic genius or something--but I forgot to mention it to him. I guess Michael asked him about it." 

Isabel shook her head ruefully. "More likely Max thought it up on his own." 

Smiling, Maria said, "Well, either way, it's nice of him. I hope he's able to fix it, or I may have to borrow Alex's bicycle to get around." 

Isabel laughed. "Since his bike is a one-seater and my brothers took the Jeep, I guess we're stuck with our feet. Let's hit the road." 

"What?" Maria teased. "You mean Czechoslovakians can't fly?" Isabel pretended to glare at her, and Maria continued, "I just need to stop by my locker and get my books first. I've got a lot of homework this weekend." 

Isabel nodded and followed Maria into the hallway. "So where are we headed, anyway? Your house, or do you have to work tonight?" 

"Nope," Maria answered blissfully. "I've got the whole evening off. I do have to cover a double shift tomorrow, though, so I hope you're geared up for something fattening. You may as well eat while you watch." 

"I think I'll let Max cover the mealtimes," Isabel planned. By this time, they had reached the locker, and Maria chuckled as she dialed the combination. She choked off, mid-laugh, as she swung the locker door open. A sick feeling rose in her stomach. There, on top of her math text, was a folded-up piece of paper. Her stalker had struck again. 

Isabel followed Maria's suddenly tense gaze to the paper, then turned to look at her friend, who stood, frozen. Finally the alien began, "Do you want me to--" 

"No," Maria responded, cutting her off. "I just needed a minute, that's all." With unsteady hands, she reached for the paper and unfolded it, wondering what the threat would be this time. At least it might give them a clue as to the author. If it didn't scare her out of her wits first. 

With the paper flat in her hands, she forced herself to look down and read it. A moment later, her face relaxed and she began to breathe again. This wasn't another threat. This was something else altogether. Something very, very good. 

"It's not another note," she told Isabel. "I mean, it is, but it's from Michael. It's not a threat." 

Isabel let out a deep breath. "Wow. For a moment there, I thought..." Her voice trailed off. 

"I know," said the shorter girl. She let out a disbelieving snort. "What is up with Michael, anyway? I mean, I can't believe that he would leave a note in my locker, considering everything that's happened. Didn't he know I'd think it was another threat? Does he _want_ me to have a heart attack or something?" 

Isabel rolled her eyes in a way that was peculiarly her own. "Sometimes I think that Michael doesn't think." She waited for a moment; when Maria didn't respond, just reading the note again, Isabel added, "So are you going to read me your little love letter?" 

Maria snorted. "It's not a love letter. Can you even imagine Michael writing one?" 

"Well, what did he say then?" the taller girl pressed. 

A warm smile lit Maria's face. "It's not what he said, it's what he wants to say. I mean, his note says he wants to talk." She gave a little skip of anticipation. "He wants me to meet him in the park at 9:00." 

Isabel raised on eyebrow in speculation. "He does?" 

"That's what the note says," beamed Maria. Excitement began to well up within her, making her as suddenly jittery as if she'd just chugged an entire pot of coffee. "Let's stop in at the Crashdown, okay? I want to tell Liz." 

With an amused look on her face, Isabel watched as Maria's feet danced their way happily down the hall.  
  
TBC...  
  



	34. Masques: Chapter 34

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 34_

Driving the Jetta, Michael headed across town, his mind only half-aware of where he was going. The other half was on Max, who'd finally gotten the car running again, its slashed tires restored. 

The spike-headed alien was very aware that he hadn't been much help that afternoon. Twice his focus had been pulled away from his surroundings by--He gritted his teeth. No, he wasn't going to think about the voice or its message right now. Thinking about it might lead to losing himself in it again; not a good idea while driving. And already twice that afternoon he'd zoned, both times pulling himself together at the sound of Max's voice quietly saying his name. Max hadn't pressed him to talk, even though Michael could tell he had wanted to. 

Then again, maybe his friend wasn't ready to risk becoming a flaming shish kebab, and had decided not to take any chances with Michael's admittedly unreliable powers. Instead, he'd concentrated on repairing the Jetta. 

When Max was done, Michael--somewhat reluctantly--drove it back to the DeLuca house. Following in the Jeep, Max gave a light tap on the horn before heading home. Leaving the car in the driveway, Michael knocked tentatively on the front door, hoping Maria would answer and not Mrs. DeLuca. He didn't want to have to explain just how he'd been able to drive the car without the keys. Somehow he felt a strong reluctance to give the only explanation he could think of, that he'd hot-wired it. And he could hardly tell the woman that his friend had used his alien superpowers to start it, could he? 

On the other hand, he didn't really want to see Maria either, still mentally chastising himself for connecting with her and showing her...well, whatever he'd shown her. His insane need to know exactly what she'd seen battled with an equally strong desire to never have to deal with the subject. 

And so he felt a strong sense of relief when neither of the DeLucas came to the door, and quickly moved away from the house, leaving the repaired Jetta sitting peacefully in the driveway. Heading on foot through the growing darkness back towards his apartment, he tried not to dwell on much of anything. 

Almost unconsciously, his feet turned and took him past the Crashdown. Maybe Maria was at work, since she hadn't been home. He hesitated. Max had probably found her and told her he'd been able to get the car fixed; he might even have taken over guard duty from Isabel. Certainly Michael wasn't needed. 

His eyes flickered. There was something he could do, though. He could try and get a vision of whoever had been threatening Maria. Sure, the sketch hadn't been any help, but maybe one of the notes would work. Only problem was, he'd have to talk to her to get them. Bracing for a confrontation, he found himself pushing the restaurant door open and stepping inside. 

No sign of Maria, but his eyes immediately spotted Liz. Heading over to the counter where she was refilling sugars, he said diffidently, "Hey." 

Liz's eyes flew towards him, startled, but she smiled. "Hi, Michael." A pause, and then she continued, "I'm a little surprised to see you. Aren't you on your way to meet Maria?" 

Michael's eyes narrowed. Was he that obvious? "What?" 

"To meet Maria, like you said in your note," she explained. 

"What?" he repeated, a furrow appearing between his eyes. "I didn't leave her a note." 

Liz blanched, and immediately crossed to the phone where she dialed Isabel's cell phone number. When the blonde picked up, Liz burst out, "Isabel? Are you and Maria at the park yet?" A dismayed look crossed her face as she listened to the response. Michael watched her intently, noting her growing look of concern. Finally she told Isabel, "I'm sure it's all right. Michael's here; we'll get everything straightened out." Another moment, and she continued, "Yeah, we'll let you know," before hanging abruptly up. 

Michael, who had barely suppressed the urge to grab the phone from her, barked, "What's going on?" 

Liz bit her lip before replying, "Maria found a note in her locker this afternoon. She thought it was from you." He opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him. "It said to meet you at 9:00 in the park, by the swings. Isabel was going to go with her, but Maria told her she'd be safe with you, that she didn't need to be handed off like a package. And then she just took off--" 

Michael cut in tersely. "What time is it?" he demanded. 

Looking at her watch, Liz responded shakily, "8:57. Michael, I--" 

With a curse, he was out the door, running flat out towards the park.  
  


*****

Eight and a half interminable minutes later, he sped into the park, looking wildly around for Maria. Spotting a small figure sitting on one of the swings, he raced over, all the while searching the darkness for a threat of some kind. 

"You're late, Spaceboy," Maria said cheerfully. "You're lucky I--" 

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he burst out. 

"What?" she answered, taken aback by his brusqueness. "Waiting for you, as a matter of fact," she added pointedly. 

"You're not supposed to be," he shot back, his fists clenched. 

"What? Of course I am. You said to meet you here," Maria responded in confusion. 

"No, I didn't," he corrected coldly. "Come on, I'm getting you out of here." 

Maria shook her head in protest. "Not until you explain what's going on." 

His mouth tight, he answered, "I didn't leave you a note. Someone else did, to lure you here. So unless you want to sit around and wait for whoever or whatever did, I suggest you get your butt out of that swing and get the hell out of here." 

Open mouthed in shock--and disappointment--Maria just stared at him. He rolled his eyes, then reached out and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her off the swing. 

She recovered herself enough to blurt, "What? What are you doing?" 

Still holding her arm, he looked her directly in the eye before saying sternly, "Are you coming, or am I gonna have to carry you?" 

She studied his stormy expression for a moment before her lips began to twitch. "Who knew you could be both a Czechoslovakian _and_ a Neanderthal?" she laughed. His mouth tightened, and she hurried on, "No, okay, okay. I'm coming, all right? I'm coming." 

He nodded, dropping her arm, then turned to scan the park around them. Once satisfied that no one was lurking in wait, he muttered, "Come on, then," and started back across the grass. Maria scooted to his side and matched her stride to his longer one as best she could. 

This was not exactly how she'd pictured her evening. Sure, she was with Michael, but somehow she'd pictured them sitting on the swings and talking, not him yelling at her and ordering her around. She didn't know why she'd gotten such an unlikely picture stuck in her head, anyway; it certainly wasn't from past experience. 

They quickly reached the edge of the park and Michael hesitated. "Where do you want to go?" he asked. "Home? Liz's?" 

Maria considered for a moment. The idea that someone other than Michael had purposely lured her to the park was beginning to set in, and she was developing a strong case of the willies about it. She didn't want to go home. After she'd found what she thought was Michael's note, she'd made happy arrangements to spend the night at Liz's, so they could indulge in some sorely-missed ice cream and girl talk. So her mother wasn't expecting her at home--and she didn't want to deal with the explanations her showing up would necessitate. 

If she went to Liz's, it would entail inviting Isabel, or else Michael would end up spending another sleepless night lurking around in the darkness. And while she was enjoying her blossoming friendship with the blonde alien, she really craved some one-on-one time with her best friend. But the only way to get that, it seemed, would be at Michael's expense. Unless Max wanted to stay up all night... 

Michael interrupted her thoughts. "So where?" he repeated impatiently, his eyes constantly scanning the area around them. 

Maria suddenly realized just where she wanted to go. "Come on," she said decisively, and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of the Crashdown. Michael followed, relaxing just a bit now that they were once more on the move. 

His uneasiness returned in full measure, however, as Maria passed the alley leading to the back door of the Parkers' restaurant and kept moving forward without slowing. Where the hell was she going? There was nothing in this direction except-- 

He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. She turned a pleading glance up to him, but his face was stony. "Just where are you going?" he asked in a gravely voice, already knowing the answer. 

Maria didn't try to fool him. "To your place," she answered honestly. 

His jaw clenched. "That's not such a good idea." 

"Please?" she begged. "I don't know why, but I feel safe there." 

Was she crazy? She could be hurt by him just as easily as by anyone else. If not more so. He searched for a good excuse. "Your mother--" 

"Thinks I'm spending the night at Liz's," she finished for him. 

"Then you should be there," he stated firmly. 

"And if I spend the night at Liz's, what are you going to do?" she demanded. His eyes shifted away from hers. "Look, Michael, if you lurk outside the Crashdown all night, you're not going to get any rest, and then I won't either, because I'll be up worrying about you. So if we're going to worry about each other, why not do it together? We could both use some sleep." 

He didn't budge. 

"Come on, Michael," she begged. "I promise I won't hound you to talk to me or anything, if that's what's bothering you. I won't even make a sound." He looked at her skeptically. "Well, I'll try, anyway," she amended. "Please, Michael?" Green eyes looked unflinchingly into brown ones. His flicked away first. 

"If your mother finds out, it won't be a newspaper she comes after me with this time," he said grudgingly. 

"Well then, we won't tell her," she answered, a sparkle entering her eyes. Starting once more down the sidewalk, she turned back to him. "Coming, Spaceboy?" 

With a sigh, he followed her.  
  
TBC...  
  



	35. Masques: Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35 

Shaking, Maria wrapped her arms around herself and waited for Michael to unlock his apartment door. Reaction was finally setting in, and she shivered as she thought about the danger she could have been in. Why had she been so quick to head out into the night by herself? She didn't want to live her life in fear, but common sense should have kicked in before she got three steps out of the house. Anything could have happened to her. She grimaced--Michael's paranoia was beginning to rub off. 

Shutting the door behind them, Michael pointed her towards the couch and she sank down onto it. Without looking at her, he pulled a faded blanket from the back of the couch and tossed it to her. She wrapped it around herself, snuggled into it and tried to stop shaking. She watched as Michael tossed his jacket on the kitchen counter and ran a hand through his hair before heading towards his phone. He looked particularly tense. 

Avoiding her eyes, he dialed. It was picked up halfway through the first ring. "Maria?" Liz said anxiously. 

"She's fine." 

"Thank God," she breathed in relief. Michael could hear voices in the background, and then Liz saying, "Michael found her. He says she's fine." Isabel said something unintelligible, just barely loud enough to hear her frustration and not the words, and then Liz was back speaking with him. "So where are you?" 

He gripped the phone tightly before replying, "My place." 

"Well, are you bringing her back here, or do you want us to come pick her up?" 

"No." 

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Liz said, "Michael?" 

He shot a quick glance at Maria, then turned away from her. "If you can get her out of here, she's all yours," he said into the phone. "But I don't think she's gonna--" 

The receiver was taken out of his hand. He turned to see Maria standing there, still enveloped in the blanket. "Liz?" she said. "I'm fine, okay?" A moment of silence as she listened to her friend. "No, I wanted to come here. It feels safe, you know?" She listened again. "No, you don't need to come. Believe me, I'm perfectly all right. Our Czechoslovakian knight errant was back on the job, wasn't he?" Evidently Liz was still not satisfied, because Maria continued, "Fine, come over if you want. Bring the whole gang. Bring the whole town if you want to. But if you're coming over just to yell at me for being stupid, I think you'll have to get in line," she finished with a sigh, studying Michael's taut expression. "Okay, see you in a bit." 

She replaced the receiver and looked up at Michael for a moment before crossing back to the couch and plopping down. "They're coming over," she said unnecessarily, since he'd been standing right there the whole conversation. Wordlessly, Michael crossed over to the counter and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest. He didn't speak. 

Maria watched him. He was obviously struggling to keep a rein on his anger, and she wished he'd just go ahead and say whatever it was he had to say and get it over with. Kind of like ripping a Band-Aid off really quick. But she wasn't going to prod him into it--after all, she had promised she wouldn't make a sound, hadn't she? And she was going to do her darndest to keep that promise. At least until the others got there. That is, unless he spoke first. 

But of course, he didn't, so she just sat there wrapped in the blanket, looking at him. Well, there were worse things. After all, she could be lying dead in a ditch somewhere... 

A frown appeared on her expressive face, causing a matching one on Michael's. "What?" he said roughly. 

Maria's only answer was a half-hearted shrug. Michael immediately knew what she was doing. "You know your little vow of silence isn't going to last," he told her. "So you might as well talk." 

She looked at him indignantly and kept her mouth shut. 

"You only promised you wouldn't talk so you wouldn't bother me, and I'd let you come here, remember? Well, surprise! You're not talking, and you're bothering me anyway. You got what you wanted--you're here, aren't you? So say something already!" 

"And just what do you expect me to say?" she asked icily. 

"How about an explanation of why the hell you were out there in the first place?" he shouted in exasperation. 

"Well, obviously because I thought you wanted me to meet you there!" she shouted back. "I actually thought you wanted to talk! Stupid, huh?" She gave a bitter little laugh and clutched the blanket even tighter, as if it were a security blanket. Or her flannel sheep pajamas. 

"For god's sake, I've been busting my ass trying to keep you out of trouble! Why the hell would I want you to put yourself in danger by waiting for me in a deserted park?" 

She tried to defend herself. "Well, the note--" 

His voice was even louder as he cut her off. "And that's another thing. How could you think I'd leave you a note in your locker like that? I mean, I know I'm not all Mr. Sensitive Wuss like Max or Alex--hell, Kyle Valenti probably ranks higher on that scale than I do--but for christ's sake, even I wouldn't be stupid enough to do that to you!" 

"I know that, Michael, I do. I just..." Her voice trailed off and he couldn't make out what she mumbled. 

"You just what?" he snapped. 

She raised miserable eyes to his. "I wanted it to have been from you," she admitted softly. "I really wanted it." 

He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, his anger deflated by her honesty. He understood what she meant. "I know," he told her. "But I can't...I'm not...Hell, I suck at this," he said, half to himself. Rubbing a hand across his face, he began to pace across the tiny room. His voice was hesitant, as if searching for words. "I'm not good at this stuff. Letting people in, I mean. There's too much I don't want anyone to see. And you--" He looked at her, then away, before continuing. "You've already seen a lot. Maybe too much. So I...push you away. I push everyone away. And..." He stopped pacing and stared down at his hands. "And I don't know if that will ever change." 

Maria bit down on her lip. Whether or not he realized it, this was about as open and honest as she'd ever seen him. She spoke, not to reassure him or let him off the hook, but from the heart. "I know you're an intensely private person, Michael. You've had to be. And I don't mean to push you to do things you're not comfortable with, really I don't. I'm not asking you to tell me everything. You don't even have to tell me anything. Just...just don't close off completely, okay?" 

He was still focused down on his hands. For a moment she thought he'd gone off into another trance-like state. Then he spoke, eyes downcast. His voice was harsh and regretful at the same time. "I can't promise that. I can't promise anything." 

"I don't need a promise, Michael. Just think about it, that's all. And if you feel like I'm putting too much pressure on you, don't pull away from me, okay? Just tell me, and I'll stop." Understanding how acutely uncomfortable he was, she went on in a lighter tone. "Like now, for instance. That's enough serious talk, don't you think? So..." She looked around the room for inspiration. "Seen any good hockey games lately?" 

He lifted his head and stared at her, disarmed by her sudden change of mood. "You're kidding me. You are actually trying to start a conversation about hockey?" Collapsing onto the far end of the couch, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. "You're seriously warped, you know that. I don't know if it's 'cause you're human, or what, but I just don't get you." 

A twinkle began to shine in Maria's eyes. "You don't?" she asked innocently. 

He rolled his head over to look at her out of the corner of his eye. "Nope." 

"You're right. You don't get me," she drawled. Ha! If only Liz were here to see her. Now this was flirting. She smiled saucily and added, "Well, not unless you're very, very good." 

For a split second she saw pain in his eyes and then he looked back up at the ceiling. With a sharp pang, Maria remembered. She could hear Michael clearly in her head, the day he'd killed Pierce, as he'd told Max, 'You're good and I'm bad.' Shit. Oh, shit shit shit. In one movement she was on her knees next to him on the couch. She placed one hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Michael? I didn't mean it like that." He didn't look at her. "I was just trying to...be funny, I guess, and I didn't think. I am so sorry." 

"No problem," he said in a low voice, not looking at her. 

"It is a problem. A big problem. And the biggest problem of all is my big fat mouth. I am really, really sorry." 

He shrugged it off, but she was still angry with herself. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you, Michael," she began. 

He turned his head towards her. "Will you shut up already?" 

"But I--" His mouth descending on hers cut her off short. A split second of shock and then she returned his kiss, reveling in the sorely-missed feeling of his lips on hers. Her hands crept up to cradle his shoulders and he put his arms around her and began to pull her closer... 

...only to spring backwards from her, half falling off the couch at the sound of a knock on the door and a rattle of the door handle. By the time the door was open, he was standing on the other side of the room, trying to look casual and failing miserably. At least from Maria's perspective. The four people who entered didn't seem to notice anything. 

"'Ria!" cried Liz, rushing to her side. She put her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly in relief. 

"It's okay, Lizzy. I mean, I'm okay," babbled Maria, unsure of whether she was more shaken from the kiss or from its being so abruptly broken off. "No harm done." 

"No thanks to you," put in Isabel fiercely. "I shouldn't have let you go on your own in the first place." 

What? Maria bristled and stood. "You don't let me do anything, Isabel. I do what I want to do, and I'll take responsibility for it." Her chin rose defiantly. "I'm sorry for worrying you all. It was my mistake, and I apologize. But frankly, I think I've been yelled at enough already, thank you very much." 

Four pairs of eyes shot over to Michael, who stood uneasily in the corner. "You yelled at her, huh?" asked Alex, repressing a grin. 

That wasn't all he'd done. Michael's jaw clenched, and he managed a gruff "Yeah." 

"Way to go, man." Alex let his grin out, ignoring Maria's vexed look. "Nice to have you back." 

Michael blinked a few times, not quite sure of how to respond. 

Max focused on the sulky blonde. "No yelling," he promised, "since Michael's evidently taken care of that already. But can we at least talk about it?" 

Maria nodded contritely. "Yeah." She sat back down on the couch. Liz settled beside her, holding her hand, and the others took places nearby. Except for Michael, who remained standing stubbornly in place. 

"Liz said you got another note," Max prompted. 

"Yeah, I did." Maria reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, handing it to Max. 

Isabel leaned over to read it with him. "This isn't even Michael's handwriting," she pointed out. "It's way too neat." 

Maria flushed. "Well, how should I know that? We're not pen pals. I mean, I've gotten exactly one note from him, with the napkin holder he made. And that was printed pretty neatly." 

"What exactly does it say?" Alex asked. "I'm out of the loop on this one, remember?" 

Isabel read the note aloud. 

We need to talk. Meet me at the  
swings in the park at 9:00.  
--M

She burst into laughter. "Yes, I suppose it's abrupt enough to sound like Michael, but really, Maria. M? Give me a break." 

"I think you're missing the point here," said Liz. "Someone wanted to get Maria into the park for some reason, and knew enough to use Michael to do it. That's scary." 

"But there wasn't anyone there," objected Maria. "I didn't see anyone, did you, Michael?" 

He shook his head. "Didn't see anything, didn't feel anything." 

"So what if the point wasn't to get you there, but to get you away from someplace else?" said Alex slowly. 

"Like where? I wasn't working, and until I got the note this afternoon I wasn't supposed to spend the night at Liz's. I was just going to be home." Maria turned white. "My mother," she blurted. "What if--?" She scrambled towards Michael's phone and dialed her own number with shaking fingers. "Come on, pick up, pick up," she muttered, gripping the receiver tightly. 

"Mom?" she said, her voice cracking in relief. "Yeah, yeah, it's me. Ummm, no I'm still spending the night at Liz's," she said, avoiding looking either Liz or Michael in the eye. "I just...I was just calling to tell you..." she looked around, searching her mind for a reasonable excuse. 

A wave from Isabel brought her attention to the taller girl, who mouthed the words "The Jetta" at her. Maria shook her head and mouthed "What?" back, and Isabel repeated the phrase, along with a few car-driving gestures thrown in. A look of comprehension appeared on Maria's face. "I was calling to tell you about the Jetta," Maria said into the phone. She listened for a moment and then repeated her mother's question. "Yeah, I know it's in the driveway, so what did I want to tell you about it?" 

Isabel gestured again--a steering wheel and then a big thumbs-up, Alex-style. "It's working?" blurted Maria, startled. "I mean, yeah, Mom, it's working. My friend Max was able to fix it." She listened for a minute, and then laughed. "Okay, I'll tell him when I see him. See you tomorrow, Mom." 

Plunking the receiver down, she turned to Max. "Congratulations! For fixing the Jetta, you are the proud recipient of an Amy DeLuca homemade pie, your choice of flavors. She thinks you're great. Thanks, Max." 

"You're welcome," he answered. "I'm glad I could help. But half of it goes to Michael--he helped me with it. Plus it was his idea in the first place." 

Maria's eyes brightened at this piece of information. "Actually, there's no need to share," she said, then turned to Michael. "My mom said there'd be one waiting for Mr. Chivalry here, too." For the first time since he'd kissed her, he met her eyes squarely. She smiled at him, then moved back to the couch. "So," she said, pulling the subject back to the note. "Nothing's wrong at home, and there wasn't any trap waiting in the park. So why send me the note in the first place?" 

Everyone mulled it over, but no one came to a good answer. 

"Maybe someone just wanted you to get some fresh air," joked Alex finally. "You know, thought you'd been stuck indoors too long. Or maybe they just have a swing fetish." 

"Fantastic," snorted Maria. "Note to self: avoid parks, playgrounds, and trees with tire swings." She looked around. "Well, whatever their plan was, I'm thinking it didn't work, right? Everything seems okay." 

"We have no way of knowing what the note was trying to accomplish; it's not giving us any clues," Liz pointed out. "Unless one of you wants to try and get a vision from it," she said to the three aliens. 

"It's worth a try. But Michael's the best at it," said Max supportively. "How about it, Michael?" 

Maria turned to look at the spiky-haired alien, inwardly pleased that he was still watching her. Or wait--no, he wasn't. His eyes were fixated on something just past her, and he wasn't moving, just breathing shallowly. "He's gone again," she reported. "Michael?" 

He didn't respond, and she scrambled off the couch and over to him. She said his name again, reaching out to touch his cheek gently, so as not to startle him. It took a moment, but eventually he blinked and focused on her. His eyes were haunted. 

"Hey," she said quietly. "You okay?" She knew what he would say, that he was fine. 

He didn't. 

Moving to the kitchenette, he turned on the cold water and splashed his face before pulling up the hem of his shirt and using it to dry off. Then, bracing his hands on the counter, he leaned forward for a moment, trying to collect himself before he had to face them all. 

Finally he turned, his arms folded across his chest and his face closed off. 

"Michael," Max began. "I don't want to push you about this. I mean, I never know where the dividing line is with you anymore. But that's the third time today you've...zoned out like that. What's going on? Is something wrong?" 

Michael looked around at the others. Three faces, like Max's, showed concern and worry. The fourth showed only support and determination. He tore his eyes away from Maria's and tried not to feel like he was an insect pinned up for study. Maybe this would be easier if he didn't actually look at them. "Yeah. Something's wrong," he managed, only to have his throat close off and block any other words. 

"What? Are you sick? Is it like before?" Isabel burst out, moving to his side. "Please let us help you, Michael," she begged. He closed his eyes. Isabel shouldn't have to sound like that. She was strong and proud; she shouldn't have to sound so upset. He swallowed. 

"Not like before," he said hoarsely. "It...it just happens. Ever since I came back." He lifted his eyes. Maria nodded at him. He went on, a little less hesitantly, "I lose track of what's going on or where I am. And when I come out of it, time has passed without my knowing it." 

"How much time?" asked Liz. 

"Depends. A few minutes maybe. Longer sometimes. And once..." Michael swallowed again. "The first time it happened, it was a day and a half." 

Alex put two and two together. "That was why you didn't watch Maria, and why you weren't in school on Monday," he stated. 

"Yeah." 

"I knew there had to be a good reason. You wouldn't just give up, not when you were that determined about something," the teen said in satisfaction. 

"Do you think it's physical?" Liz asked. "Maybe it's a chemical imbalance or something." 

Isabel leapt on this. "If it's an imbalance, we need to use the balancing stones again. They helped before." 

"Michael, would you let me scan you?" asked Max. "Maybe I can tell something from that." 

Michael looked Max in the eye, obviously hating this idea. What he saw there evidently reassured him somewhat; he assented, though somewhat unwillingly. As Max crossed to him, he heard Michael mutter, "But you're not going to find anything in there." Max wasn't sure if he was supposed to overhear, so didn't respond. 

Standing in front of his reluctant friend, Max put his hands out and made the connection. Closing his eyes, he tried to sense what was wrong. The others remained silent. A few minutes later, Max opened his eyes. 

"Well, Dr. Evans, what's the diagnosis?" quipped Alex. 

Max looked at Michael. "I don't think anything's physically wrong that can't be blamed on not getting enough sleep," he told him. 

Michael's eyes narrowed. "But..." he prompted. 

"But I felt something else. Isabel, when you healed Michael's arm you said that he felt 'shadowed'. I felt it too." 

"I thought we decided that was the other Michael," Liz mused. "No, wait," she corrected herself. "That was because we didn't know Michael was himself again. But he was by that point." 

Maria watched Michael in concern. This was a lot for him. Maybe it was time to do what she'd promised and back off a little, taking the others with her. "I think this discussion can wait until later, don't you? I mean, he seems okay. And it's been a long day. I for one am very tired." 

Isabel looked at her in shock. "How can you say that he seems okay? We don't know what's going on, why this keeps happening. God, Michael didn't give up on helping you just because he was tired. I can't believe you would. So much for caring about someone, huh?" 

Maria bit her lip, but refused to defend herself or explain her real motives. She just shrugged, accepting the rebuke. 

"No," said Michael abruptly. "She doesn't really think that. She's just trying to make this easier on me." The others turned to him. "I knew you wouldn't find anything wrong, Max. Because the problem isn't physical. It's something else altogether."  
  
TBC...  
  



	36. Masques: Chapter 36

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 36_

"What do you mean, Michael?" Isabel blurted. 

He swallowed and avoided her eyes. "I mean that the problem is mental," he told her roughly. "I'm cracking up, okay?" 

Maria snorted. "You are _not_ cracking up, Michael," she objected. 

He looked at her. "Well, what would you call it?" 

"I don't know. Lack of sleep? Some sort of alien post-traumatic stress syndrome?" she sighed, then turned to the others. "Okay, Michael thinks he's losing his admittedly screwy mind. I disagree. What do you think?" 

Max looked at the tight-lipped alien who stood there so uneasily. "What's going on, Michael? We can't know if you don't tell us." 

Maria silently sent a message. Just tell them, Michael. Let them ask, so I don't have to. As if he could actually hear her, his eyes met hers and his jaw clenched. 

He slowly turned to Max, his voice cracking. "I'm hearing things, okay? I've got this voice stuck in my head. That's what's going on. I am totally fucked up. Happy now?" His burning eyes met those of his leader. 

"A voice?" Isabel said intently. "Like the one we heard when we dreamwalked you?" 

He shrugged, and Maria spoke up. "Yeah. The same voice." 

"Whose voice?" Isabel questioned. 

"I don't know, all right? I don't know anything any more," he barked. Reaching over, he grabbed his jacket from the counter. 

"Michael!" cried Isabel. 

"Just...gotta get some air," he managed, pushing past her to the door. His hand on the knob, he kept his back turned as he spoke to Max and Isabel. "Will one of you stay with Maria?" 

"Sure, Michael," Max answered without hesitation. 

Michael ducked his head in thanks. He paused, teeth gritted, and then turned to Maria, muttering, "You can go ahead and tell them. I don't care. I just...I gotta go." Raising miserable eyes to hers for one fleeting moment, he bolted out the door. 

Maria frowned. He very obviously did care. A hell of a lot. He seemed to want them to know, but at the same time he couldn't bear to face them knowing. And whatever he felt, as usual he couldn't bring himself to find the words. "Okay," she said to the door where he had disappeared. She could at least save him from the struggle to tell the others. 

"You may as well sit back down," she told the two aliens. 

"But Michael..." Isabel whispered. 

Maria's voice was confident. "He'll be back. He just needs a little time. And we were kind of closing in on him, so his instinct was to run. But he'll be back." 

Realization dawned in Isabel's eyes, and she spoke softly. "You knew he felt like that. That's why you were trying to get us to stop talking about it." It wasn't a question, but Maria nodded. "I'm sorry, Maria. I should have known better, but I--" 

"You were just worried about him," Maria finished for her. "We all are." 

"So what about this voice?" asked Alex, getting to the point. 

"He doesn't know who or what it is," Maria explained. "But it's in his head all the time. Sometimes he can drown it out, and other times...I think that's what happens when he zones out. The voice overpowers him, and he can't handle it." She bit her lip. "On top of all that, he hasn't really been able to deal with killing Agent Pierce, you know? Well, the voice...it calls him a killer." 

There was silence from the other four, then "Oh god," whispered Isabel. 

Max shut his eyes. Why did this have to happen? Wasn't it enough for Michael to have to deal with his entrapment in his own mind, and the danger Maria was in, not to mention all the problems with Pierce and the FBI last spring? His friend didn't deserve any of that, and now this voice...Max felt a sudden need to destroy something. Anything. Just blast it out of oblivion. Instead he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. They had to do something. Figure this out, and fix it. If Michael would let them.  
  


*****

Hands in his jacket pockets, Michael wandered aimlessly down the chilly streets of Roswell. He felt able to breathe again, after the claustrophobia that had swarmed over him in his apartment. He kicked himself mentally for once again having run out on them. It seemed that, no matter what his intentions, he couldn't help but flee whenever things got too hard or too difficult. And he couldn't bear to stand there and see pity in their eyes. So he ran, like the coward he was. 

Trudging along, he allowed his thoughts to drift to Maria. She was the one who'd gotten him to open up as much as he had, so he could say it was all her fault he'd had to leave. His lip curled up in a sneer. Yeah, all her fault and not his own. Sure. God, he couldn't even face himself with the blame. He was weak enough to try and lay it on her. But that was just an excuse. He knew better. 

It was his own fault, his own weakness. He'd hidden it from all of them for so long that it had almost become part of who he was. He'd bluffed and blustered through his whole life, hiding his self-doubt under a thick layer of rash action and unconcern. Not even Max and Isabel, who'd known him longer than anyone, had really seen him. And now, with so much out in the open, how could he face them? Who would he be? 

A car horn in the distance brought his head up, and he finally noticed his surroundings. He had passed the Crashdown, now closed down for the night, retracing the steps he'd taken earlier that evening. Somehow, without intending to, he'd brought himself back to the park.  
  


*****

Five people sat in an uncomfortable silence in Michael's small apartment, searching for answers. "What do we do, Max?" Isabel asked her bother in a shaky voice. 

"I don't know," he answered regretfully. "I'm scared to push him any more, Izzy. I don't know how much more he can take." 

"But we have to do _something_. We can't just let him..." Her voice trailed off, scared to finish the thought. 

"We need to find out more about what's going on," he said, "Before we can help him. But I don't know how much more he's going to be able to tell us. If he's even willing to in the first place." 

Liz tried to take what little information they had and pull it together into a logical explanation. She didn't get far. "As usual, we don't know enough to get any answers. All we have are bits and pieces that don't make sense," she complained. 

"Welcome to Czechoslovakia," Maria put in dryly. "You're the experts here," she said, turning to the two aliens. "Or at least the closest thing we have. So what do you really think?" 

Max's forehead wrinkled as he attempted to sort out his thoughts. "I don't know what to think," he admitted. "We've never faced anything like this before." 

Alex spoke up thoughtfully. "Well, either Michael's hallucinating, in which case maybe he is cracking up, or else the voice is real. In which case, who is it and where did it come from?" 

"I don't think it's a hallucination, Alex," Maria said firmly. "I mean, he didn't tell me about it--Michael just doesn't tell you things, you know?--I heard it myself. In the dreamwalk, and then...well, it was in one of the flashes I got when he connected to me the other night. It felt...let's just say it felt very, very real."  
  


*****

Michael lowered himself into the same swing that Maria sat in earlier that evening, waiting for him. Sometime during then and now, the bulb in the closest street lamp had burned out, leaving the swings sitting in darkness. He didn't mind; the night almost seemed to welcome him. 

He wasn't ready to go back and face them all, though he knew he would have to eventually. But for now, he wanted to just sit and be. Not to worry about Maria, or Max and Isabel and his destiny to help them fight for their planet, or his crazy brain that was persisting in dredging up every last bit of guilt and horror and shame over what he was and what he had become. Not to have to think about anything. He just wanted to sit and let the night enfold him in a dark cloak, hiding him from everything and everyone. 

He was only partially successful, though. His contrary mind refused to oblige him; it kept winging its way back to the note that Maria had received. To whoever had sent it. Gazing into the darkness, he wrestled with it, trying to define its purpose. 

Something about it was bothering him. Contrary to Maria's worries, it had to be targeting her, and not the three aliens. After all, if it were some sort of an alien enemy plot, why would they have bothered to send any sort of a warning? Why not just sneak into town and take the three of them out? Letting your targets know you're there didn't seem like sound military strategy to him. Not that he would know. 

So it just seemed to make sense that whoever sent the notes was after Maria, and not Max, Isabel and him. 

But if the notes were really directed towards Maria, why? Who could dislike her that much? She couldn't possibly have done anything to hurt someone so badly that they would come after her in this way. As best as he could tell, she was a good, though quirky, person. Not that he was equipped to judge. He frowned. Anyway, there was no reason for her to be a target. 

And who would write her a note and sign it 'M'? He didn't buy into the idea that she was intended to think the note was from him. No one except an over-hopeful Maria could possibly take that as his style. So that left everyone else with names beginning with M as suspects, which didn't narrow down the pool all that much. Face it, M was a pretty damn common initial. 

He began to run through a list in his head, discarding the obvious rejects. Max wouldn't take a risk with her safety any more than Michael would. And Maria certainly hadn't left it for herself. M could stand for Mom, except that Mrs. DeLuca could have talked to her daughter at home any time; no need to meet in the park of all places. Who else? Michael's jaw clenched as a name popped into his head. A name he had been trying to avoid. 

Mark. Mark Blumenthal, the guy in Maria's play. The guy who'd sought her out at lunch, not just today, but the day that his emotionless half had fought with Maria in the middle of the quad. Michael had been across the courtyard, sitting leaning against a tree, keeping away from the whole bunch of them, and she'd crossed over to get him, to talk about making another dreamwalk attempt. He'd been very aware that Mark had stopped her on the way. He remembered it very well--how conscious he'd been of where she was, the emotion that he hadn't wanted to feel breaking through from his other self when she headed towards him...only to be stopped. By Mark. 

The guy who'd kissed her. Who she'd kissed back. Even though it was just part of the play. The guy who seemed a little too friendly for Michael's taste. 

The guy Michael didn't trust. 

Abandoning his speculation, Michael clenched his fists. He needed to get back to the apartment, and see what he could pick up from the note. To see if his suspicions were correct. He had to try the vision thing, even if it meant facing them all first. 

He ran a hand across his face, trying to wipe away his reluctance to go back. Taking a deep breath, he braced himself and then got up off of the swing determinedly. He had only taken a few steps when a movement across the park stopped him in his tracks. Someone else was in the park. 

Slinking back into the pool of darkness surrounding the swings, Michael peered through the night at the tall figure that moved slowly across the grass. He let out a breath as the figure moved close enough into the light of a street lamp to be distinguished. 

It was Mark. And he wasn't alone.  
  
TBC...  
  



	37. Masques: Chapter 37

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 37_

A little while later, Alex was sitting on the floor, leaning against the faded couch and rattling off possible--though not very plausible--explanations for Michael's mysterious voice. "Maybe someone else is putting the voice inside his head. Like a ventriloquist with a hate for bad haircuts," he said, trying to break the somber mood. "Or maybe Michael's possessed. Enough bizarre things have happened around you guys that I'm almost willing to give in and accept the whole demonic possession thing. Or hey! How about a ghost? Maybe he's haunted." 

Isabel didn't lose her grave expression. She shivered, thinking of what her almost-brother was going through. "Haunted? You mean...by Pierce?" Remembering the look on Michael's face when he had realized Pierce was dead, she pressed her lips together tightly. A furrow appeared on her brow. 

"Well, I don't mean by the Ghost of Christmas Past," Alex told her in a last attempt to cut the tension. Becoming more serious, he continued, "You know, I'm a lot more willing to believe it's some sort of FBI trick. I mean, if they could plant that camera in his apartment, they could certainly rig up a miniaturized receiver and speaker there as well." 

"I thought Nasedo was keeping a tight rein on the Special Unit," Liz pointed out. "Isn't he, Max?" 

"I think so. Although he hasn't been in contact since he left," said Max. "So we can't be sure." 

"No overt signs of an FBI presence, though, right?" asked Alex. 

"No. Everything's been quiet on that front," Max assured him. 

"The FBI doesn't make sense anyway, Alex," said Maria. "I mean, he hears the voice all the time. Everywhere. What do you think he's doing, carrying the FBI equipment around with him?" 

"Well, not knowingly," Alex admitted, unwilling to give up on this explanation just yet. 

"You think he just accidentally carries it around in his pocket without knowing it's there?" asked Isabel in an irritated tone. "Come on, Alex. He'd find it if it were there. Even Michael puts on clean clothes occasionally." 

"Besides, nobody else can hear it," Maria objected, dismissing the idea. 

Alex suggested, "Maybe it's in a frequency that we can't hear, but Michael can." 

"What, you mean like a dog whistle?" Maria said in disbelief. 

"Yeah, something like that. Too high or too low to be heard by the human ear." 

"Oh, that's going to go over great," she sputtered. "I can't wait to see Michael's reaction when you start blowing dog whistles at him." 

"Well, I didn't actually mean--" 

"And besides," she continued, "if it were that, Max and Isabel should be able to hear it too, shouldn't they?" 

The tension was beginning to wear at Isabel. "I did hear it," she reminded Maria, "but only in the dreamwalk. Never in real life." She rose abruptly and crossed to the kitchenette, feeling a sudden urge for activity. "This is all giving me a headache," she complained. 

"I thought you didn't get sick," said Alex in surprise. 

"We don't," she informed him. "Not the way you mean." Swinging open the refrigerator door, she wrinkled her nose in distaste. "God, hasn't Michael ever heard of baking soda?" She began to reach for a paper towel, but changed her mind with a shudder. "Forget it. He can clean his own refrigerator," she muttered, and began to rearrange the few possessions in Michael's cupboards. 

Maria watched her stalk around the small kitchen, straightening things that weren't really all that out of place. It still amazed her that Isabel would turn to domestic tasks to help herself deal with stress. But there she was, lining up a half-empty cereal box so that it was perfectly even with the edge of a shelf. Not exactly what you'd expect from the high school social snob that Maria had thought Isabel to be just a year and a half ago, much less from someone from outer space. 

Watching Isabel, her mind wandered back to a different alien. She hoped that Michael wasn't feeling so trapped, that getting out had helped him to clear his head a little. And that he wasn't standing in the middle of a street somewhere, stuck in another trance. She frowned. He was being tormented by this voice, thinking he was going crazy, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She didn't know how. 

Her lack of knowledge was nothing new, though. She hadn't known what to do when he'd gotten so sick the year before, either, and he'd almost died from that. It had taken all five of them, plus River Dog, to get him back then. She gave herself a mental shake. He'd come out of that just fine. He would come out of this okay, too. 

Muttering something under her breath, Isabel tightened the cap on a bottle of Tabasco. Maria watched her thoughtfully. Isabel, despite her current proclaimed headache, was never ill, and Max's few health problems had been either the result of that car accident or--Maria swallowed nervously--torture at Pierce's hands. They were both extraordinarily healthy. If this was due to their alien constitutions, then why was Michael so susceptible to things going wrong? Well sure, not normal human things, like colds or the flu, but bizarre stuff. Stuff that could only have to do with his Czechoslovakian status, like his self-immersion in webbing as he lay dying, and this voice only he could hear. And of course there was the whole Jeckyll & Hyde thing that he'd just come out of. 

She sucked in a deep breath of air, and really thought about what had happened to him only five or six weeks earlier. She'd never taken the time to question just _why_ his mind had split in two--she'd been too busy trying to get him back to worry about the reasons for it. Was it a species-wide problem, or peculiar to one stubborn, poorly groomed individual? 

"Max? Isabel?" she asked. "What if all this stuff that's happening to Michael is a Czechoslovakian phenomenon? We don't know why it happens. What if it happens to you, too?" 

The siblings looked at each other for a moment, "We've talked about that," said Max. "And we'll deal with it if it does." 

"It might not happen, anyway. We don't know much about our prior existence, remember?" Isabel responded. "We don't have any idea how much variety there is within our kind. And then to change alien traits even further by mixing them with human DNA...who knows what kind of wild results you'd end up with?" 

Alex frowned. "But I thought you were engineered. Designed to be germ-resistant and all that." 

"We were," said Isabel with a shrug. 

Something was nagging at Maria. The talk of being engineered sparked a memory for her. She knew something, but she didn't know what she knew. It was something Michael had said...She could almost hear his tone of voice, if not the words themselves. Something about...being broken? 

Her eyes widened. "Do you remember the argument you and Michael had at my house, Max?" she said intently. "He said something about being flawed, remember? That he was born broken, or something like that." She looked at him, worry in her eyes. "What if he's right, that something went wrong when he was created? Maybe that's why he's had problems that the two of you don't." 

Max leaned his chin on his hand as he considered. Finally he spoke. "Maybe. We don't know enough to tell. But I hope not, for his sake." 

Isabel clenched her fingers tightly together. "Maybe he was supposed to be different from us. Maybe it's for a reason. Max, what if he was wrong?" 

Liz, who had been quietly observing their discussion, chuckled suddenly. At Max's questioning look, she explained, "I know--this isn't funny at all. But I was just thinking that...I never thought I'd say it, but I was thinking how much I wished Nasedo was here." 

Isabel paused in straightening Michael's scanty collection of silverware and raised one eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like him." 

"I don't. He seems very...alien to me, in a way the three of you never have. He scares me, actually. But he may know more than he's told you. He might be able to help us figure out how to help Michael." 

"I'm not sure Michael would let him help," Max said frankly. 

"Why not?" 

"Because Michael doesn't trust him." 

Isabel rolled her eyes. "Michael has a hard time trusting anybody. He always has." 

"But once the shock of getting the whole message from our mother began to wear off, he started questioning everything. You saw him, Isabel. His paranoia hit redline." 

"What?" cried Maria in outrage. "You mean I spent the whole summer moping about him, breaking my heart that he left me to follow his so-called destiny, and the whole time he didn't even believe it?" Her voice rose to a shriek. "He was avoiding me for nothing?" 

"It wasn't nothing," Isabel said fiercely. "He really wanted to believe that he had a destiny, you know. Not to be with me, but to have a purpose. A reason for existing. He could have just happily accepted it." Her voice softened. "But he didn't. He made the choice not to believe, Maria. He chose against destiny." 

"But he talks about helping Max win your war..." Maria started. 

"You know Michael. What he says and what he does and what he really thinks are not always the same thing. In fact, they're quite often radically different." Isabel smiled sympathetically. "I wouldn't worry so much about what he says. It's much more interesting _why_ he says it." 

"What do you mean?" 

Isabel smiled widely at her. "Well, duh. Think about it for a minute. Why wouldn't he want to accept his destiny? What would he rather be doing?" 

"You mean..." Maria's voice got stuck in her throat and she was unable to finish the hopeful question. 

Nor was Isabel given the chance to answer it. All five of them jerked in surprise as the apartment door was flung back on its hinges. Before Maria had time to so much as blink, Michael rushed into the room. 

"God, Michael," said Isabel, recovering first. "I know it's your apartment, but you don't need to--" 

He interrupted her. "Let me see the note," he demanded, looking down at Maria. 

"What? What for?" she asked. 

"C'mon, the note. The one you got today. Just let me see it, all right?" he rushed on, his hand outstretched. 

Pulling it out of her pocket, she placed it in his hand. His fingers trembled for a moment and he seemed almost to hesitate; then he closed them tightly around the paper, shutting his eyes in concentration. Maria, watching as his brow wrinkled and his jaw clenched, realized he must be trying to get a vision, to pick something up from the note. She put a gentle hand on his arm, silently giving him support. With a sudden jerk, Michael stumbled a bit, his equilibrium lost. He somehow managed to catch himself, and stood holding the note loosely. Letting out a deep breath, he shook his head as if to clear it and then looked down at Maria, his eyes full of confusion. 

Alex coughed. 

It was only then that Michael seemed to realize that there were four other people in the room. And they were watching him. Maybe judging him. And, thinking back to his earlier confession, probably feeling sorry for--His face closed off. 

Thrusting the note back into Maria's hands, he took a step back and looked around at them, before heading back to the apartment door and rushing through it. The door slammed behind him. 

"What was that all about?" asked Max. 

"I don't know," said Maria. She stood for a moment, unsure, and then grabbed the faded blanket from its place on the back of the couch and headed for the door.  
  


*****

Michael didn't have to hear the step on the sidewalk to know that Maria was nearby. He could almost feel her following before she stepped out of the apartment building and looked around. Trying to find him, probably. 

"You shouldn't be out here without Isabel or Max," he said gruffly. She started and turned towards where he was standing, leaning against the brick of the apartment building. 

Her voice was calm. "I'm sure they're happy to have a break from the baby-sitting." Wrapping the blanket she held in her arms around her for the second time that evening, she joined him in leaning against the building. She tilted her head back against the chilly brick and looked up towards the stars. 

Staring into the night, Michael frowned. "So did you come out here to pump me, or what?" 

"Nope," she said, with a laugh in her voice. "Don't you think I know better than that by now? I just came to get some fresh air." She continued to gaze at the tiny specks in the night sky. 

He turned his head to study her in the dimness. "You shouldn't be out here," he repeated stubbornly. "That fresh air you want? It's too cold." 

It was too cold for her but not for him? He just wanted to be alone, that was all. Besides, she could hack it if he could. "I've got your blanket, Spaceboy. I'm fine." She gave a half smile at her inadvertent use of his usual word. 

Fiddling with one of his silver rings, Michael turned it around and around on his finger, not wanting to ask what he knew he was about to ask. He told himself to just suck it up and ask. He might as well know the worst. When he spoke, his voice was husky. "So did you tell them?" 

"Yeah." He nodded and stared down at his feet. She continued, "It's all right, Michael. It's good that they know. They don't feel any differently about you, though, you know. And neither do I, for that matter." 

He continued to fiddle with his ring. After a moment, he said, half to himself, "Yeah, well, I'm not sure I do either." 

Maria gave a tiny little Michael-style smirk into the darkness. That was just like him. "Of course not. That would be too simple, wouldn't it?" she teased. But she remembered what Isabel had said, that what Michael said and what he really thought weren't necessarily the same thing. "I'm going back in," she decided. "You coming?" 

"Yeah. I guess." Silently he followed her back into the building and up the stairs. He seemed to brace himself for a moment before he stepped back into the apartment. 

Once inside, he headed directly over to a plastic crate in the corner of the room and rifled through it, finally pulling out a small sketch pad and pencil. Ignoring the others, he sat down at the counter that doubled as a table and opened up the pad, flipping through it until he found a blank page. He closed his eyes for a minute, as if to try and recapture an image in his head, before beginning to make tentative lines on the paper in front of him. 

Maria watched him with interest. "What are you drawing, Michael?" 

Focused on the page in front of him, he answered absently, "Don't know." 

She moved over to stand looking over his shoulder. There were a few curved lines and some shading marring the pristine whiteness of the paper, but she couldn't for the life of her make out what she was seeing. Was he into abstract art or something? 

Hunching over the sketch pad, Michael looked up at her. "Do you mind?" he said in a rather rude tone. 

"No, I don't mind," she answered blithely. "Not as long as you tell me what you're doing." 

He gave a quick roll of his eyes at the ceiling, but gave in with ill-mannered grace. "I told you, I don't know what it is. I'm trying to figure out what I saw when I held the note, okay? I'll let you know when I know." 

So he _had_ seen something. Well, she could wait. She wasn't going anywhere. 

"Okay," she said, reining in her curiosity. She glanced over to the others. None of them had done more than glance up quickly when she and Michael had returned, and now they still seemed rather intent on their conversation. Well, on Max and Liz's conversation, that is. Her eyebrows raised. If she didn't know better, she would almost think that the two were having an argument. Of course, being Max and Liz, it was conducted quite politely and at a reasonable volume. 

Moving to Alex's side, she asked him what was going on. "They're...disagreeing about Tess," he told her. 

She nodded her head wisely. "That again, huh?" 

Alex shook his head. "Not in the way you think. Liz wants to bring her in on this, to see if Nasedo's been in contact. Max doesn't want her involved." 

This was a surprise. "_Liz_ wants to call in Tess?" she blurted in amazement. 

"Yep," Alex said with a nod. Maria focused with interest on her best friend. 

"It's a matter of priorities, Max," the brown-haired girl was saying. "All we do is complain about not having enough information. I for one think it's time to do something about that." 

"You sound like Michael," said Max, frowning. 

"I heard that," came a gravely voice from over by the kitchen counter. 

Max ignored it. "I realize that we don't know enough. But it's not worth taking any chances. If we keep calm and be careful, no one will get hurt. We can't rush into anything." 

"It's been months since we've heard anything at all from him!" protested Isabel. "We are not rushing. This is long overdue. And if he can help with Michael--" 

"If who can help with what?" said Michael abruptly. 

"Nasedo. Liz thinks maybe he can help us figure out why you're hearing the voice," Maria explained. "And she wants to talk to Tess to figure out the best way to contact him." 

"No. No way," he said, his voice rising. 

"But Michael," Liz said in a reasonable tone, "We need to talk to him. He might hold the key to what's been happening to you." 

"He might, and he might not," he told her stiffly. "But we're not gonna ask him." 

Isabel and Maria exchanged a pointed glance. "See?" said the taller girl. "We told you he didn't trust Nasedo." 

"You told them..." Michael began, rising from his seat in exasperation. "Does the whole world have to know everything about me? What the hell are you going to do next--read them my diary?" 

"You have a diary?" asked Alex, momentarily diverted. 

"No, I do not have a diary," roared Michael. "That's not the point! The point is, since when does everyone have to know my business?" 

"Since the day you became our friend," said Maria heatedly. "God alone knows why, but some of us are stupid enough to care about what happens to you!" 

"We are obviously not going to come to an agreement about this tonight," Max cut in smoothly. "Why don't we all take some time to cool our heads? We can talk about it tomorrow." 

Liz looked cautiously over at the spiky-haired alien. "Michael? It's your problem we're dealing with here. At least in part. What do you want us to do?" 

His eyes met hers coldly. "Why don't you stop butting in and just go home? You heard our fearless leader--Max will decide what to do and tell us tomorrow," he said in a harsh voice. "It's late. You better all get home before your mommies and daddies start to worry about you." 

He ignored the hurt look in her brown eyes--a look he was much more used to seeing in Maria's. "All right," Liz said evenly. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She paused by the door. "Michael?" 

"What?" he snapped. 

"Get some rest, okay?" She turned to the others. "I'll wait for you outside." 

Max crossed to his second-in-command. "That wasn't necessary," he said in a voice shaky with controlled anger. "She was just trying to help." 

Michael refused to look at him. 

Allowing Alex to take her hand and pull her up from the couch, Isabel chimed in. "You've been hanging around us for eight years, Michael. You'd think that in that time even you would have picked up some rudimentary manners." She gave him a pointed look. "Major apologies are due here, brother. I suggest you start practicing." 

"Not a good move, man," said Alex quietly enough so only Michael could hear. "A pissed off Isabel is not a fun Isabel." His voice got even quieter. "And you hurt Liz's feelings like that again and you're going to have me to deal with. Actually, that goes for any of my ladies. Got it?" 

Michael didn't answer, but his eyes met Alex's for a brief moment. Evidently satisfied with what he saw there, Alex relaxed and turned to the small blonde still standing defiantly across the room. "Coming, Maria?" 

"I don't think so," she answered slowly. "I already told Liz I was staying here tonight. Besides, I think Michael and I need to have a little talk." A pair of intense brown eyes shot over to meet hers. 

"All right," answered Alex. "Your choice. But call us if you change your mind." With that, he followed the two aliens to the door, leaving Michael and Maria alone to stare at each other in silence.  
  
TBC...  
  



	38. Masques: Chapter 38

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 38_

With a jerk, Michael turned away and stalked to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of Tabasco, he poured its contents liberally into a half-empty can of soda and unceremoniously chugged the whole thing, then stood, still turned away from her. 

Maria raised an eyebrow. It was a good thing the Czechoslovakians stuck to soda. She'd hate to see what Michael would be like if he downed a beer that fast. Or, thinking of how romantic Max had become with one sip, maybe she wouldn't. She studied Michael's back. "Well," she said. "That was interesting." 

"You should have gone with them." 

"What? And miss the opportunity for more yelling?" 

He turned back around and folded his arms across his chest. "So let's get it over with." 

"Get what over with?" She raised artless eyes to his. 

He glared at her. "You know very well what. You're going to ream me out." 

"Why ever would you think that? What could you possibly have done to warrant that?" she burst out. "Oh, yeah, maybe it's that you totally went off on Liz for absolutely no reason. You think?" 

He pressed his lips tightly together and didn't answer. Aha. Stoic Michael was back. She sighed. "Look, Spaceboy, I know you're under a lot of pressure right now. But that's not a reason to lash out at any of us. You have to think a little before you lose your temper. Don't take it out on us--save it for 'When Aliens Attack.'" 

He waited, knowing she couldn't possibly be done yet. 

"I mean, we are all trying to help you out here. Because we care about you. So why did you have to be so mean? What were you thinking?" 

"Sorry," he muttered. 

She opened her eyes wide and put a hand to her ear. "I beg your pardon? Did you say something?" 

"I said I was sorry, all right?" he burst out. "What do I have to do, embroider it on a sampler for you?" 

Her lips twitched as a very unlikely picture popped into her head. Michael, sitting in a rocking chair, taking delicate lavender stitches into a square of linen..."No, no," she managed, "The verbal apology is just fine." 

"Got it." 

"But you're going to have to make it to--" 

He cut her off. "To Liz. I know." 

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, well, well. Spaceboy's not so backward after all." 

"I got it, okay?" 

"Yeah. It's okay." Michael moved around the counter and sat down in front of his forgotten sketch pad. His shoulders slumped as he hunched over it. 

"Michael?" 

"What?" 

"Just because you're my...friend...and I'm trying to be all supportive and stuff--it doesn't mean I'm not going to call you on it when you do stupid things, you know. But it doesn't mean I don't..." Her voice trailed off. 

"So does that mean I get to call you on your stupid stuff?" he asked, not looking at her. 

"You already do, pal," she pointed out. "Who was yelling at me just a few hours ago for going to the park?" 

"Oh. Yeah." He sat for a few moments in silence, then picked up his pencil and added a few more strokes to the sketch pad in front of him. "We done here?" 

"For now," she told him. He looked over at her suspiciously. "I make no promises about the future." Maria wandered idly over to the couch. Picking up the blanket from where she'd tossed it when she and Michael had come back in, she folded it neatly and draped it once more over the back of the couch. 

"So," she said, looking around the small apartment. 

"What now?" 

She gestured towards the sketch pad. "You done with that thing yet?" 

"No, I'm not done with it. I told you I'd tell you when I figured it out, didn't I?" 

"Right." She sat for a moment, then rose and began to pace across the room. 

"Look, I'm trying to work here," he said. "Can't you find something to do?" 

"Like what?" she complained. "It's not like there's a whole lot to choose from." 

"Never seemed to bother you before," he commented absently, adding another pencil stroke to the page. 

Well, of course not. Most of her other visits--at least the ones before the summer--had involved them making out on the couch. She didn't need any other entertainment then. Now, however, was a different story. Although tonight he had kissed her...She shook her head. "You should get some magazines or books or something." 

With a sigh, he got up and moved across the room, back to the crate where he'd found the sketch pad. He dug through it and then tossed a worn paperback to her. 

"Oliver Twist?" she asked in surprise. "You have a copy of Oliver Twist?" 

"It's from the library. So what?" He headed back to his sketch. 

"You're reading Oliver Twist?" 

His tone was defensive. "I'm working my way through Dickens. What about it?" 

"Well, nothing. I knew you could read. I mean, you told me about Ulysses and all. I just didn't know you...read." 

"Yeah, well, don't spread it around." 

She fingered the book. "They made this into a musical, you know. It's one of my favorites." His only response was a noncommittal grunt. "I sang a song from it for my Little Shop audition." He placed the pencil carefully down on the counter and turned around, giving her an exasperated look. "What? Why are you stopping?" 

"Because I can't concentrate with your mouth running on like that," he said bluntly. 

"Well, why didn't you just tell me to shut up then?" 

"What, and risk another lecture?" He raised one eyebrow. "If you're not going to read, go to sleep already. It's getting late." 

She looked around the studio apartment, suddenly uncomfortable. She'd been there before, but never to spend the night. Where--? 

He seemed to understand her unspoken question. "The couch. Take it or leave it," he said matter-of-factly. 

She sat back down on the couch in question. It was not terribly comfortable. That hadn't bothered her in the past, when she was occupied with...other things, but to spend a whole night on it? And he slept there every night? It was a wonder he didn't have massive back problems. "Michael," she said firmly, "you really need to get a proper bed." 

"Well, it's either that or buy groceries. I don't know about you, but I'd rather be able to eat," he returned shortly. "Besides, I don't sleep all that much anyway." 

"I know," she said, prodding a lumpy cushion. "With this couch, who could blame you?" 

"So pick up the phone and call Liz. Spend the night there if this isn't good enough for you, Princess." 

"That's not what I mean. God, Michael, you don't have to make such a big hairy deal out of it." 

"I don't have to..." he repeated dumbly. "Look, I'm not the one making a big deal out of it! You're the one who's complaining, okay? In fact, you're the one who invited yourself over here in the first place!" 

"Okay, okay. Gotcha. The couch is fine," she said obediently. 

Crossing to the closet, Michael pulled out a pillow and tossed it to her. "You can use the blanket from the couch," he told her. 

"Okay. So, do you have something I can sleep in?" 

He blinked and then seemed to pull his mind away from whatever mental picture it had just created. "No," he bit out. "Sleep in your clothes. Mine are off-limits." She noticed with amusement that he actually looked a little flustered. 

"Can I at least take off my shoes?" she asked innocently. 

"What? Oh, yeah, shoes. Shoes are good." He pulled himself together. "Look, just get some sleep, okay? You can run your mouth off in the morning." 

Opening her mouth indignantly, she stopped before the words could pour out. There was a look in his eyes...He'd made that last comment on purpose. To bug her. Well, two could play at that game. 

"Aren't you coming to bed?" she asked nonchalantly as she removed her shoes. 

"What? No, I'm gonna try and get some more work done," he stammered. 

She looked him over carefully. "It's all right, Spaceboy. I think we'll fit." 

"What?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. 

"On the couch. We'll both fit on the couch," she responded, holding back a giggle. 

"I'll, uh...I'll crash on the floor. I do it at Max's all the time." 

"Why? Don't you think we'll fit? Do you think I'm too fat or something?" 

"What? No--I don't--" He stopped, finally picking up on the amusement in her eyes. He ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard enough walking through the usual conversational minefield with you humans without you throwing booby traps in just for the hell of it," he told her. His tone became more challenging. "No, I don't think you're fat. Why? Do you think I'm blind?" 

"Only sometimes," Maria admitted in a small voice. 

He let out a breath of air and looked away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Just go to sleep, okay?" 

"Not until you do too." 

In exasperation, he barked, "Maria--" 

"I mean it, Michael. You don't have to worry about guard duty; I'm right here. So at least try to get some rest, okay?" 

He capitulated in a clipped tone. "Fine. If it'll shut you up." 

Heading back to the closet, Michael pulled a crocheted afghan from the shelf. Maria took one disbelieving look and burst into choked laughter. "What?" Michael snapped, self-consciously clutching the pink and white bundle. 

"Nice afghan," chortled the girl. "Wow. With three-dimensional crocheted roses, no less. It's so very _you_, Michael." 

His jaw clenched. "Yeah, well, Mrs. Evans gave it to me. Her mother made it. And Isabel refused to change it for me, okay?" 

"Suuure, Spaceboy," Maria drawled. "Now all you need are a macramé wall hanging and a few doilies, and you'll be all set." 

"Well, if someone hadn't invited herself over, I would be using my blanket instead, wouldn't I?" he said snidely. 

"No, you'd be lurking in the shadows at the Crashdown," she reminded him. He opened his mouth to retort, obviously searching for a comeback, but finally gave up. 

"Fine. I have a wussy afghan. Deal." On his way back past the door, he flicked off the light switch. Blinking in the sudden darkness, Maria listened to the sound of him kicking off his shoes and settling down on the floor. 

"Michael?" 

"What?" he answered sharply. 

She hesitated for a moment, and then said quietly, "Good night." 

The only response was a grudging, "Yeah." 

"And...thanks." 

His voice was cross. "What for?" 

"For coming to get me at the park. For looking out for me. And for letting me stay tonight." 

"Didn't have much choice there, did I?" 

"Well, yes, you did. So thanks." 

"No problem," he lied. "Just make sure your mother doesn't find out." 

"Don't worry, she won't." 

Michael let out a doubtful grunt. With a smile, Maria lay back on the couch and pulled the blanket up under her chin. She lay there for a few minutes, suddenly feeling very wide awake. 

"Michael?" she said hesitantly. 

"Go to sleep," he ordered. 

Ha! Now he would know what it was like. "I can't." 

"Well, that's just great, isn't it? What do you expect me to do about it?" 

"Nothing. I just--" 

"What?" 

"Nothing. Good night." 

Again, the response was a muttered, "Yeah." 

She lay in the darkness, listening to him breathe. Well, even if she couldn't sleep, maybe he would be able to. And he could certainly use it. All she had to do was to be quiet. She grimaced into the dark. Not so easy as it sounded. 

Her mind wandered to the next day. She had to work a double shift, but maybe the six of them could get together and talk afterwards. There was still a lot to discuss, and some fences to be mended. She shifted uncomfortably, thinking about Michael's reaction to the Nasedo idea. Maybe they were being a little harsh with him. After all, there they were, deciding things about his life and not even consulting him about it. No surprise that he'd blown up at them. At least he hadn't done it literally. 

And come to think about it, in his situation she probably would've done the same thing. Frowning, she tried to decide where the line was drawn between caring about someone enough to make sure they did what was best for them and totally overrunning their life. No wonder Michael was having such a struggle. And then she'd had to go and lecture him about behaving better...She bit her lip. Maybe he wasn't the only one who needed to apologize. 

"Michael?" she said for the third time. When he didn't answer, she propped herself up on one elbow and peered across the room, trying to make him out in the darkness. "Michael?" she repeated. The only sound was his deep, even breathing. A smile blossomed on her face. "Michael?" she said softly. "Are you asleep?" There was no answer. 

With a grin, she snuggled deeper into the folds of the blanket, ignoring the lumpiness of the couch. Finally, he was getting some rest. So all she had to do was be quiet so she wouldn't wake him up...She could do that...Giving a contented little sigh, she allowed her suddenly sleepy eyes to close. With one last thought of Michael, she let herself drift off into sleep.  
  


*****

Pushing her hair back off her hot forehead, Maria headed back to the pass-through to pick up the next order of hamburgers. The Crashdown was packed, and she could barely keep up with the demand. Where was everyone else? No Liz, no Agnes...and she didn't even know who was working in the kitchen. She didn't have time to look--all she could do was take the orders and turn them in and pick up the next order and deliver it...and why was everyone ordering rare hamburgers anyway? Hadn't they ever heard of chicken? Or salads? The Crashdown was jam-packed full of heart attacks just waiting to happen. 

She finally got a breather and headed into the storeroom for more ketchup. She'd just put out new bottles and worry about marrying the old ones together later. Stacking the bottles on a tray, she pushed the door open with her hip and went back into the main dining room. 

The dining room that wasn't there. 

What? 

Instead of the familiar surroundings of the Crashdown, she was standing in another familiar place. A desert. Michael's dream desert. 

Oh. Okay. So she was dreaming. At least the nightmare Crashdown shift wasn't real. But why would she be stuck dreaming about Michael's desert? 

She turned around to find that the door she'd come through was no longer there, and realized that she wasn't holding the tray of ketchup bottles. They'd disappeared. But she was still wearing her Crashdown uniform, complete with silver antennae. That sucked. If she was going to dream, why couldn't she be wearing something fabulous? 

Gazing around her, she smiled as she felt a familiar little tingle. Michael. She looked around in excitement. Dream Michael--now _that_ had possibilities. Not that she didn't love the real one, but the dream one was more likely to show the softer side that Spaceboy rarely let anyone see. She began to head in the direction of the tingle. Hey, it was her dream--she might as well enjoy it. 

Before long, she saw him, feet planted firmly in the sand as he stood with his back turned, looking into the distance. "Hey, Spaceboy," she called as she neared him. He turned around with a startled jerk, his face clouding over when he saw her. 

"Great," he muttered. 

"Nice greeting, Quasimodo," she commented. He raised an eyebrow and turned away, focusing once again on something in the distance. 

Great was right. What happened to her Dream Michael? You know, this sucked too. "Okay, I am officially requesting a different Michael. You know, less grouchy. Maybe even with a smile. But something exciting, anyway. How about Tattoo Michael? Or Ski Instructor Michael? Or Pirate Michael, you know, with an eye patch and a parrot?" 

He turned back to her. "What the hell are you talking about?" 

She shook her head. "No, see, this isn't what I want. Not Grumpy Difficult Michael. I mean, it's fine for everyday, but for now I want something different, okay?" 

Michael rolled his eyes. "You are warped, you know that? Figures you'd drive me crazy here, too." He turned away. "The real you wanted me to get some rest. So why don't you stop bugging me and let me do just that?" 

With an indignant gasp, Maria burst out, "Listen, pally, get this straight. My dream, my rules, got it?" 

"Fine," he responded. "When it's your dream, you decide. But since it's mine, would you just leave me alone already?" 

"It is not. It's mine. I can't help it if I'm warped enough to be dreaming about your stupid desert," she said crossly. 

He stiffened, then faced her and looked at her very closely. Putting out a hand, he gently touched her cheek, then took her by the chin and stared down into her eyes. She held her breath. A furrow appeared on his brow and he dropped his hand, turning and beginning to look wildly across the desert floor. 

"What on earth are you looking for?" 

He ignored her, instead raising his voice and shouting across the expanse of sand. "Isabel!" he roared. 

Maria looked at him in exasperation. "What are you doing? And why am I dreaming you're doing it?" 

"I'm not a figment of your imagination. I'm dreaming and you're in my dream. So if you're dreaming, too, the only way you could've gotten in here is for Isabel to be playing her little dreamwalking tricks." 

"That's crazy." 

He shrugged. "Then it shouldn't be so unexpected, coming from me." 

"Michael!" she chided. "So how do I know you're dreaming this too, and I'm not just dreaming that you've said all this? Prove it." 

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" 

"I don't know," she responded. Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, I do. Tell me something that you know and I don't know, but that I know you know." 

"What?" he bit out, trying to follow her convoluted instructions. He shook his head. "Fine. Like what?" 

She pounced on an idea. "Like what you saw in your vision." 

He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, all right? It happens really fast and all I get are impressions. It takes a while to figure out what I actually see." 

"Oh," she said in disappointment. 

He looked at her for a minute, then said reluctantly, "But I can tell you what I thought I'd see." 

"Well, duh. Obviously a clue to who wrote the note." 

"No, I mean specifically." 

"What, then?" 

"Your buddy Mark." 

"What? Mark? Why would Mark leave me the note?" 

"Well, duh," he mimicked. "To get you to the park." 

"But why would Mark be sending me those threats? That doesn't make sense." 

"Maybe not. But if you don't think it was Mark, why would you dream that I'd think it was Mark?" She considered this. "Besides," he continued, "how often in a dream do you actually realize you're dreaming?" 

"You have a point." 

"Yep." 

She grabbed his arm. "Oh my god, Michael! How did we get in the same dream?" 

"Isabel." 

Maria shook her head. "I don't think so. I mean, the other times, we were together when she made the connection, and I saw a flash of white light before I got in. This time I was having a very normal wonky little dream about the Crashdown, and I went through the door, and here I was. It's not the same thing." 

He shrugged. 

"Don't you want to know?" she asked. 

He didn't answer, instead plopping down on the sand and resting his elbows on his knees. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Waiting for you to stop blathering. Or for me to wake up. Whichever happens first," he answered dryly. 

"Oh, that's just fantastic. Here we are with yet another bizarre Czechoslovakian..._thing_ happening, and you don't even care?" 

"It's just a dream, Maria. I'm asleep, you're asleep. At some point we'll wake up. No big deal," he said in a calm voice. 

"No big deal? Tell that to the people who braved your dreams to rescue you from them! And gee whiz, Michael, who would that be? Me, that's who! So don't you dare tell me it's no big deal! Who knows what can happen in here?" Her voice rose to a shriek. 

"Calm down," Michael ordered. 

"And if I don't? What are you going to do about it?" she challenged back. 

His voice rose. "Well, I'm not gonna kiss you this time, that's for sure!" 

"What? Who said anything about kissing me?" She stood over him, her hands on her hips. "And what's wrong with kissing me, anyway? You didn't seem to object to it earlier!" 

"Maybe I should have!" 

Trembling, she spoke in a shaky voice. "You were the one who started it, Michael. You kissed me, not the other way around." 

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have." 

She blinked rapidly. "You're right. You shouldn't have." Turning on her heel, she strode resolutely away from him, leaving a stream of footprints behind her. 

Michael groaned and flung himself back onto the sand. Shit. Staring into the empty sky, he cursed his big mouth, and his tiny pinheaded brain that let it say things without thinking first. There they were, having a perfectly normal--for them--spat, and he had to go and put his foot in it. And his boot. And hell, probably half the lumpy sofa she'd been complaining about. 

He hadn't wanted to kiss her. Well, he had, but he knew he shouldn't. He was too screwed up for anything like that right now. But somehow his human, seventeen-year-old body had taken over and he'd kissed her. Hell, if the others hadn't come in, he'd probably still be kissing her. Or more. If she'd let him. 

But of course he couldn't tell her that. The mood she was in, she might have slapped him, anyway. So as usual, he'd pushed her away, and hurt her, like an idiot. Were all seventeen-year-old guys this dumb, or was it just him? Picking up a handful of sand, he tossed it roughly away from him. A second handful was about to follow when he heard it. 

A voice. But not the unknown voice that kept plaguing him. 

This was Maria's voice. 

And she was screaming his name.  
  
TBC...  
  



	39. Masques: Chapter 39

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 39_

Without consciously commanding his body to move, Michael found himself on his feet and bolting at top speed across the sand. His thudding heart caught in his chest for a moment as he saw her in the distance, a tiny figure in a blue-green dress. His eye caught the light glinting off that stupid antennae headband she wore as his feet pounded across the desert floor. Try as he might, he couldn't find a voice to call to her. He just sent out a mental message in the hope that she would know he was coming. It seemed to take forever, but eventually he skidded to a stop behind her. 

Her Michael-radar must have been working, because in a heartbeat she had turned and thrown herself into his arms. He held her for a moment, then took her face in his hands and urgently searched her eyes for some clue as to what was happening. Was she all right? "Are you okay? What happened?" he demanded. 

Maria buried her face in his shoulder and tried to stop shaking. "It's just a dream. I know it's just a dream, but...oh, Michael." 

"What happened?" he repeated, pressing her to answer. When she didn't speak, he tightened his arms around her, saying hoarsely, "It's okay. Everything's okay. Just tell me what happened." 

After a moment, she remembered how angry she was with him and gingerly detached herself from his arms. When she spoke, her voice was a little less tremulous. "You have to promise me you're not going to freak." 

He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I think you have the market cornered on that right now." 

"Promise me," she insisted. 

"Okay, okay. I promise. Now what are you all upset ab--" His voice cut off as he followed her gaze to the sand a few feet away. She pointed. 

"That," she said baldly. 

There, lying half-covered with sand, was a navy blue trouser leg. And it wasn't empty. Michael swallowed. By his side, Maria began to babble. "I wasn't even looking where I was going, you know? I was too busy trying to decide where I could get a giant Acme anvil, and then, boom, I trip over...over _that_. I mean, I've never discovered a body before, and it kind of startled me, okay?" A frown appeared on her face. "And why is it that whenever I'm in one of your dreams, I run into things, or trip over them or something, anyway?" she asked angrily. 

He looked down at the sand-covered form, willing his brain to work. Or his mouth, or something. Anything. What finally came out was not, upon consideration, the best thing he could have said. "Friend of yours?" She swatted him on the arm. 

"That's not funny," she scolded. 

"I know, I know," he told her. "So lay off the arm. It's just a dream, remember?" 

"Yeah, I guess so," she said, regaining a little more composure. 

"So there's not a real body lying there. It's just my subconscious trying to tell me something. No big deal." He listened to himself with skepticism. Was he trying to convince Maria or himself? 

She gave him a disapproving look. "It may not be a big deal to you, Michael, but it sure scared the heck out of me. And me without my cedar oil." 

He looked down at her and spoke in a firm tone. "There's nothing to be scared about. It's not real." 

She nodded halfheartedly. "I know, I know. I mean, my brain knows that, okay? The rest of me just needs a little time to catch up." She glanced over at the still form on the sand. "So who do you think--Michael!" she yelped. "It's moving!" 

Immediately on the defensive, he thrust her roughly behind him and turned to face it, his right hand out to ward it off. A moment later he relaxed. "It's not moving, Maria. It's just the sand blowing around." Sure enough, a slight breeze was picking up. 

"Oh, that's reassuring," she complained. "The last time I was in one of your dreams, Isabel and I were almost killed by a giant rampaging sandstorm. I _so_ don't need to hear that it's back." 

Michael crouched down by the body and studied it closely. He could tell from the trousers that it was a man--or a very butch woman--but enough sand covered it to completely hide its features. Great. Trust his subconscious to make things difficult. Almost involuntarily, he reached out towards it. 

"Michael! You're not actually going to _touch_ it, are you?" Maria said, horrified. 

"You're the one always bugging me, wanting to know what's going on in my head," he pointed out. "So here's your chance." 

"I wanted a nice, straightforward conversation, that's all. Bodies--imaginary or not--were not involved." 

He shrugged. Something within him wanted to--no, _needed_ to find out what this meant. So he reached out and began to brush the sand from the still form. 

"It's a good thing that you don't want to kiss me," Maria muttered behind him. "Because there's no way I would let you lay a hand on me after touching _that_." 

He pointedly ignored her, working to clear the body of its grainy covering. If the feet were there, the arm must be...here. Michael uncovered a pale shirt sleeve and slowed his motions. He suddenly felt very uneasy about this whole thing. With a quick shake of his head to dismiss the feeling, he bent to his task once more. There was the shoulder. His hands found the top of the head and uncovered a shock of dark hair. Frowning, Michael slowly began to work on the face, a knot in his stomach. A moment later, he scrambled back with a curse. It wasn't just a body, it was a corpse. 

Pierce's corpse. Its--no, _his_ eyes stood open and stared blankly into the sky. 

In an instant, Michael was caught up in a replay of that horrible moment when he'd...killed Pierce. Again he felt the hate, the rage at what the man had done to Max, the fear for himself and for the others, coming together in a burst of white-hot energy that shot forward and obliterated the agent as if he were no more than a bug, sending him flying backward into a display, to lie unmoving in a heap on the UFO Museum floor...Michael's mind grappled with the memory, playing it over and over for what seemed like forever... 

...until the touch of a hand on his arm brought him to his senses. He turned burning eyes to see Maria kneeling beside him. He looked away, staring at the far-off horizon rather than at the corpse or the worried girl next to him. He swallowed and managed to find his voice. "Well," he muttered, "I guess this proves that subtlety is not my strong suit." 

"Are you all right?" she asked. "For a moment there, I thought you'd zoned out on me again." 

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. I...I almost wish I had. Believe me." His eyes shifted back to the still form and then away again. 

Beside him, Maria spoke softly. "Come on, Michael. Let's get out of here." 

His response was firm. "No." 

"Micha--" she began. 

"You go ahead. Wait for me back where we started. I'll be there in a little while." 

"I don't think that's a very good idea." 

He forced himself to look back down at Pierce. "Why? He's not real. Max and Isabel...they changed him. Afterwards. He doesn't exist any more. And even if he was real...he's dead. He can't hurt me." He seemed to be trying to convince himself. 

"Maybe not. But...it can't be good for you to...I mean...please, Michael, just let him be." 

"It's not like I don't see him all the time anyway." He took in her look of alarm. "No, I'm not seeing things now. I just have a very clear picture of it all in my head. It's nothing new." 

She gazed at him, concern in her eyes. Her close scrutiny made him acutely uncomfortable. "Look, why don't you head back? I'll be there in a little while. I just wanna..." He focused on a few grains of sand on Pierce's sleeve and repeated, "I'll be there in a little while." 

"I'm not leaving you." Her statement was matter-of-fact. 

"Fine. Do what you want." 

Forcing himself to see what was in front of him, Michael studied Pierce's face. He couldn't tell if the frozen expression held more shock or fear. This wasn't someone to be afraid of. He was just a man. A man who had killed and tortured, with no regard for what was right. Michael wondered if he'd ever felt remorse for his actions, if he'd been weighed down by the thoughts Michael had now. Somehow he doubted it. But it didn't make him feel any better. Whatever Pierce had done didn't negate his actions. 

He slowly dropped his eyes to Pierce's chest. His brain hadn't conjured up a silver handprint, but the man's shirt was burnt away, as was--Michael felt sick--the flesh beneath it. His eyes flew back to the man's face, somehow expecting to see accusation in it. He didn't. It was still blank, lifeless. 

Michael grimaced. His brain was obviously holding on to this image, the idea. But he wasn't sure that the obvious horrible message it sent was all there was to it. Somehow it seemed as if there must be more. What was he setting himself up to do? There must be something. Surely his brain couldn't be just using the image to punish him, to torture him. If so, it was going to have to get in line behind the voice that kept accusing him. 

A sick feeling rose in his throat. The voice--could it be Pierce's? Was he so screwed up that he had to create a mental projection to blame himself, rather than facing up to the truth of what he'd done? He clenched his fists. Alien or not, he was just seventeen. He shouldn't have to deal with this. It wasn't fair. 

He laughed bitterly. But then, what in his life had been particularly fair? Not much. His life sucked. That was just the way it was. So be it. 

Once more studying the body before him, Michael tried to figure out how he should be feeling. It wasn't real, after all. Should he even care? Should he be sorry for what he'd done, apologize to it? It wouldn't do Pierce any good--and he wasn't so sure he did feel sorry about it. He wasn't sorry that Pierce was dead. After what he'd done to Max, Michael could almost bring himself to believe that. So maybe he was just sorry that he had been the one who'd ended Pierce's life, that fate or karma or bad luck had set him up to do this terrible thing. 

But it could've been Max. Or Isabel. And that would have been worse. Max, the leader, the healer...or Isabel, proud and strong...Michael couldn't bear it if one of them had done it. If they had been lessened by such an action. If there was blood on their hands... 

Reflexively, he scrubbed his palms against his jeans, trying to rid them of their aura of guilt. It had been his hands, not Max's or Isabel's. His guilt. He had to live with it, at least long enough to keep Maria safe and to help Max and Isabel find their rightful place. If any of the whole 'come back and save us all' message was true in the first place. 

Enough of this. Sitting here wasn't going to help anything. He needed to be on his feet, moving ahead, taking action. No more of this pussyfooting around. The sooner they solved Maria's problem, the sooner they could concentrate on Max's. And once that was taken care of, assuming they survived, then he could move on to--well, he didn't know what. But it didn't matter. He just had to be doing something. 

Taking one last glance at Pierce, Michael grew more determined. The man was dead and gone. He couldn't do anything about it now. There was no time for guilt or remorse or fear; he had things to do. The rest could wait until afterwards. Until then, he would shut the door on Pierce and whatever he stood for. 

Michael reached out once more, as if to say goodbye. To the man, to his actions, to...he wasn't sure what. But he placed a hand over the raw flesh of Pierce's chest and shut his eyes. This was his dream; he could do anything. He reached out, picturing the burnt body whole, the shirt pressed and new. A tingle ran down his arm, pressing thousands of tiny pinpricks of sensation into each of his fingers...and then it was gone. He slowly opened his eyes and looked. 

Pierce's body was whole once more. 

Feeling a little incredulous that he'd actually done it, even if only in a dream, Michael stared down at the body before him. The slight breeze picked up once more, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of it across his face. A hiss from behind him snapped his eyes back open. Maria. He'd actually forgotten she was there. How had she kept so quiet? This must be some sort of record for her. 

But she was speaking now, saying his name in a tense voice. He looked over at her to find her eyes focused on Pierce, staring in shock. Turning, he saw that Pierce was...shimmering. The breeze shifted over the body, blowing away the grains of sand that still stuck to him, until he was perfectly clean. But it didn't stop there. As it continued to blow, the body seemed to turn to sand and began to blow away, little bits of Pierce spreading out over the horizon, being blown up and down. 

And leaving in its place a glowing, humanoid figure, almost too bright to look at. It lay still and unmoving on its bed of sand, growing more and more brilliant and more and more blinding and more and more painful until Michael had to throw up his arms to shield his eyes from its intensity, sure that nothing would ever shake the afterimage from his brain. 

And as it grew, eclipsing whatever light normally existed in this world, a soft whisper of a voice came from the desert around him. It was back, but he could hardly hear it, totally immersed in shielding himself from the glow in front of him. With one final burst of light, the figure was gone, leaving in its wake daylight that seemed black as pitch in comparison. And in the split second of the figure's passing, Michael could hear the voice, clearly this time. 

It said, _Killer_. 

And this time he recognized it.  
  
TBC...  
  



	40. Masques: Chapter 40

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 40_

Michael leapt to his feet and stood without moving, the sound of that voice ringing in his ears. He looked at the empty desert in front of him, but he didn't really see it. He was too busy grappling with what he'd just heard. Or, rather, who. He knew it couldn't be real, that his mind had created it as a part of his dream, but still... 

The voice came again, louder this time, repeating its insidious message in a sickeningly sweet tone. _Killer. Killer._

It figured. He'd finally made the decision to stop obsessing about Pierce's death, to shove it and its implications aside and get something accomplished, and he couldn't do it. The voice wouldn't let him. It was reminding him with every syllable of what he'd done. How he'd reached a hand out and seconds later the agent was dead. 

Michael shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. No. This time, he wouldn't let the voice get in his way. This time, he would do what needed to be done, regardless of what else was happening. He wouldn't run from it, but he wouldn't listen to it either. Not now. He wouldn't let it affect him so it might as well stop. 

And he told it so. Looking defiantly into the sky, he commanded it to shut up. To leave him alone. This time he didn't get caught up in it; he fought it. "Shut up!" he said more loudly, then raised his voice even further. "Shut up, damn you! Shut up!" 

But the voice refused to listen, repeating its incessant, hateful message. It grew louder and louder, pounding in his head, making his ears ring, unrelenting. 

A sharp pain pierced through Michael's skull, dropping him to his knees in the sand. 

He would not give in. He would _not_ give in. 

His hands flew up to cover his ears in a futile attempt to block out the sound. To no avail. 

He wouldn't give in. Please let him not give in. 

Two small hands closed over his, and he looked up, only half seeing the stupid silver antennae in her blond hair and her worried green eyes as she stood in front of him. She seemed to be saying something, but he couldn't hear over the roar of the voice. As if she understood his confusion, she repeated her message, carefully shaping each word. His eyes fastened on her lips as he struggled to understand. 

With a sudden feeling of triumph, he recognized one of the words she was repeating. His name. No one said his name like she did. He'd heard it in a hundred different tones, a thousand different moods, but her lips always moved the exact same way, shaping the word with exquisite care as if it were of vital importance. 

And once he made out one word, the others became clear as well. It was only two more words, after all. Two lone syllables. Six letters, no more. His mind spun, dancing the words around, unable to take in their meaning. Pulling his hands roughly from his ears, Maria stretched herself up as far as she could go. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember everything she'd ever learned from singing about projection and diaphragmatic breathing; then she shouted as loudly as she could, directly into his ear. 

**"Michael! Wake up!"**  
  


*****

Letting fly with a string of curses, Michael bolted upright in the middle of his apartment. He was breathing hard, from shock and effort rather than from physical exertion. Looking wildly around the dark room, he tried to absorb the implications of what had just happened. If it had happened, and it wasn't just some dream-created hallucination of his scattered brain. 

But it had seemed very real. At least, the voice had. He knew the whole thing with Pierce becoming an incandescent figure of light wasn't real. But the voice--it didn't seem any different from all the other times he'd heard it. 

Except this time he'd fought it. 

He would have lost, if Maria hadn't screamed at him to wake up. 

Maria. 

His head swiveled immediately over towards the couch, looking for her. In the darkness of the room, he couldn't make out her small figure. He swallowed as a hundred panicky thoughts filled his head. 

What if she was still stuck in his dream? What if he'd woken up but she hadn't? What if she had disappeared, like she had before? He shot to his feet, the rose-covered afghan pooling on the floor, and raced to the door. He flicked the switch up and blinked in the sudden lamplight. 

All his energy drained away as relief swept in. She was there, on the couch, propped up on an elbow and looking at him. 

"Michael?" she whispered. "Was it real? Was I really back in your dream?" 

"Yeah. You were," he managed. 

"And we found Pierce's body, and it turned into...into light?" 

"Yeah." 

She hesitated, and then said carefully, "What happened to you, Michael? You were...you were really starting to scare me." 

He looked at her, a scowl on his face. "Didn't you hear it?" 

"Hear what?" 

"I couldn't tell if it was in the dream or in my head again. But if you didn't hear it, that question's answered." 

"What? You heard the voice? What?" 

"Yeah." 

Her eyes narrowed. "Michael. I know you. There's something you're not telling me." 

Michael looked up at the ceiling. "And how would that be different from usual?" he said, trying to deflect her questions. 

It didn't work. She gave a little shrug. "It's not. But tell me anyway." 

He ran a hand through his hair, acquiescing. "This time, when I heard it, I recognized it. You were right when you said it was familiar." His voice was hollow. 

"Who?" she gulped out. 

His eyes met hers. He spoke one word. "Topolsky." 

Maria stared in shock at the tall alien in front of her. "T..Topolsky?" she stuttered in disbelief. "As in Agent Topolsky, fake guidance counselor and crazy dead person?" 

"Yeah." 

Maria sat up on the couch. "Okay, that's just wrong. The woman is dead, Michael." 

"I know." 

"So what are you thinking, that her ghost is haunting you or something? Come on, Michael. And why would _Topolsky_ be calling you a killer, anyway? You didn't have anything to do with her death." 

He looked away. "I didn't meet her to get the orb, and she disappeared. And then she was dead." 

Maria's voice rose indignantly. "That is not your fault!" 

"I'm not saying it is, okay?" he burst out. "It's just...It happened, that's all. Pierce...had her killed." 

Maria shook her head. "This is just too bizarre, Michael. I mean, I don't even believe in ghosts." Her lips curved into an amused smile. "Of course, up until last year I never really believed in aliens either." 

"Yeah, well, I guess we proved you wrong," Michael said dryly. 

"You sure did. I mean, it's hard to argue with living, breathing proof, especially when it's a lot taller than you and can blow things up with its mind." She grinned as he acknowledged her point with a wry nod. Playing with the edge of the blanket, she continued, slowly, "There's another explanation for the voice, though, Michael." 

He raised an expectant eyebrow. "Shoot." 

"Don't freak out over this, okay?" He folded his arms and looked at her sternly. "You could be making the voice up in your own head, Michael. You know, convincing yourself that you heard Topolsky instead of someone or something else." His lips pressed together stubbornly. "I don't mean that you're crazy, or that you didn't hear it, but you've already shown that you have a talent for coping with things in...well, _unusual_ ways." 

"A talent for--what's that supposed to mean, exactly?" he bit out. 

"I don't know, just that...well, you split yourself in two and locked half of you inside your own head. That's not usual, Michael. At least not for the human part of you. I don't know about the other part--" 

"And this is supposed to convince me I'm not crazy? Just how does that work, Maria?" 

"I don't know! I'm just...I guess I'm just trying to see the big picture. You know, think logically," she explained, then mused, "Hmmm. Logical thought. Maybe I've been hanging around Liz too much." 

Did she imagine it, or did his lips quirk upwards in a sudden brief smirk? 

"You know," Michael commented, "I'm not so sure that you of all people are an appropriate judge of my sanity." 

Maria's eyes narrowed, and she blurted, "And just what do you mean by that?" before she caught the slightest twitch of a lip in his otherwise impassive face. She rose regally from the couch and stalked over to him, placing one deliberate finger squarely in the center of his chest. "Look here, pally, you may as well stop messing with me, 'cause there's no way you're gonna win." Ha! Let him react to _that_ challenge. 

Instead, he totally disarmed her by saying soberly, "You know what? You're probably right." 

Maria's jaw dropped. What the heck did he mean by _that_? "What the heck do you mean by that?" she demanded. 

Shuttered brown eyes looked into green ones. "Why don't you go back to sleep?" he suggested, ignoring her question. 

"But--" 

"It's the middle of the night. You might as well get some rest. I'll wake you up in time for work," he promised. 

"All right," she said slowly. "Are you--" 

He shook his head. "No, I'm gonna stay up. Maybe work on the sketch. I've...I've got a lot to think about, anyway." 

"Okay." She swallowed, then headed back over to the couch. Sitting, she grabbed the faded blanket and began to pull it upwards, then looked over at him as he headed towards the light switch. "Michael?" 

"What do you want now, for me to tuck you in or something?" he asked sarcastically. 

She pretended to consider his offer, then burst into laughter at the trapped look on his face. "No, no," she managed between chuckles. "I wouldn't want you to strain yourself, Spaceboy." She gave him a wide, perfectly open grin. "Good night." 

He looked at her for a moment and then reached out to flick off the light. Settling back down under the blanket, she listened to the quiet sound of him padding back across the room. Another click and a dim light came on in the kitchen. Craning her neck, she watched as Michael sat at the counter, silhouetted against the kitchen light. 

Resting his elbows on the counter, he leaned his head into his hands and sat, unmoving. Maria held her breath. In a moment, however, he straightened up and reached for the sketch pad and pencil in front of him. Maria smiled. He would be all right. She snuggled down under the blanket and closed her eyes. Maybe this time she would see one of her Dream Michaels...  
  


*****

Maria took a deep breath of cold air as she hastened down the sidewalk, a silent Michael by her side. He'd woken her, as he'd promised, pulling her out of one of the best sleeps she could remember having in a long, long while. He hadn't been very talkative, though--not like that was so unusual. He refused point blank to discuss the events of the previous night. Not talkative? Grumpy was more the word for it, actually. He'd nodded brusquely when she'd decided to head over to Liz's so she could clean up before the morning Crashdown shift started. At least there she'd be able to comb her tangled hair. Looking up at the alien beside her, she wasn't sure he even owned a comb. He'd just run his hands through his spiky hair, pulled on his boots and jacket, and indicated roughly that he was ready to leave. 

"So," she said, to make conversation, "are you hanging around the Crashdown on guard duty today?" 

"At least until Max or Isabel can get there," he responded in a gruff voice. 

"Good. Then I can treat you to breakfast," she said happily. "What are you in the mood for? Eggs? Pancakes? What?" 

"I don't want anything." 

"Oh come on, Michael, you can't just sit there without ordering something. It'll blow your cover. I mean, it's a restaurant, not a park bench." His face tightened. Suddenly realizing, she stopped in her tracks. "What? You think this is some sort of charity or something?" 

He didn't answer, continuing doggedly down the sidewalk. 

Maria ran after him and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to a stop. "Well, what on earth was last night then? Letting me stay with you, giving up your bed and your blanket--was that charity?" 

He refused to look at her. "No, that was coercion." 

She let out a screech of frustration. He was just--just infuriating! "Look," she said through her teeth, "if you won't let me buy you breakfast as a friend--which Liz and I do for Alex all the time, by the way--then consider it payment for your hospitality last night. Or for your guard duty. You won't owe me anything, okay? God, you are so prickly sometimes, Michael." Her voice grew very, very firm. And the slightest bit shrill. "I am buying you breakfast, so you'd better start deciding what you're in the mood for before I decide for you!" 

Michael closed his eyes. It looked like the only way he was gonna get her off his case was to give in. Figured. "Okay, okay. Fine. Don't make such a big deal about it." 

"What? You know, if you hadn't slept on the floor last night, I would swear you got up on the wrong side of the bed," she seethed, turning and stalking down the sidewalk, all the while muttering under her breath about badly groomed, pigheaded Czechoslovakians with no manners. Michael quickly caught up to her. 

"Pancakes," he muttered. 

"What?" she said, pulled out of her rant. 

"Pancakes. With maple syrup and plenty of Tabasco." 

She smiled at him, her black mood instantly dissipating. "There, that wasn't so hard, was it?" 

He rolled his eyes as they turned the corner to the Crashdown's back alley. "You can wait in the back while I go up to Liz's room and get ready," she decided, pulling open the restaurant's back door. "It won't be long before we're officially open, anyw--" She stopped in her tracks. Michael, following on her heels, had to pull himself up short to keep from running into her. Looking over her head, he took in a distressed-looking Liz and a very serious Jeff Parker. What the-- 

"Maria Ursula DeLuca," said a cold voice. Michael blinked. Ursula? But in front of him, the girl stiffened, and he swung his eyes over to see--oh god. Her mother.  
  
TBC...  
  



	41. Masques: Chapter 41

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 41_

Maria stood frozen, barely hearing the stifled "Shit!" from behind her. She gazed into her mother's furious eyes, eyes that were angrier than she'd ever seen them. Even more than when Maria had let Michael spend the night with her. 

Her chin rose and she locked her eyes with her mother's. "Hi, Mom," she said coolly, stepping into the room. 

Her mother did not look away as she said, "Jeff? Do you mind?" 

"No problem, Amy. I think I need to have a talk with my daughter, anyway." With a stern glance at his daughter, Jeff Parker pointed up the stairs. "Come on, Liz." 

Maria's eyes flashed to her friend. Liz looked intently at her, mouthing "Sorry," then shook her head helplessly before heading back upstairs after Jeff, leaving Maria alone with her mother. Oh--and Michael. Surprisingly, he hadn't moved from the doorway. Then again, he didn't really know her mother. If Maria were in his shoes, she'd have already bolted. 

Amy's eyes followed Maria's to the tall boy; he shifted uncomfortably under the double gaze. "I think you'd better stay for this, Mr. Guerin," Amy said, her voice even more chilly, if that was possible. "I have a few things to say to you, too." 

Even if she hadn't been looking at him, Maria would have known that Michael had tensed. But he came in, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. 

She had to get him out of this. She'd promised Michael that her mother wouldn't find out, and now that was blown. So the least she could do was to try and spare him the flack that was about to hit. "Can't this wait until later?" she asked. "I've got to work, Mom. We'll be opening soon." 

"No, it cannot wait. This is more important than work. And Jeff Parker agrees with me." Her mother's voice grew even tenser. "So. Maria. Would you care to explain what you were doing out all night, when you told me you'd be at Liz's? And with..._him_?" she added, her voice not concealing her dislike. 

Maria's eyes narrowed, and her chin set obstinately. "No. I _don't_ think I care to explain." 

Even Michael, who'd had no real parental guidance in his life, knew that she'd just given the wrong answer. Massively wrong. Colossally wrong. Unimaginably wrong. He grimaced, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the ongoing confrontation. It was like watching a train wreck. 

"No seventeen-year-old daughter of mine is going to stay out all night, god knows where, with some hoodlum!" Amy said sharply. 

"He is not a hoodlum!" Maria shouted right back. Uh-oh. She shouldn't bother trying to defend him. He was a dead man anyway. The killer newspaper was beginning to look good. He watched numbly as Maria's mouth kept right on jabbering. "And just what are you doing over here, anyway, Mom? Spying on me?" 

"It just so happens that you left your overnight bag at home. I was bringing it to you. And while you're under my roof, I have a right to know what you're doing!" 

"Then maybe I shouldn't be under--" Maria began, at the top of her voice. Uh-oh. This wasn't just a train wreck any more. This was getting really ugly. 

"Maria?" Michael broke in. She didn't pay any attention, she just kept ranting on. Maybe he should try the other DeLuca. Maybe she'd be more reasonable. He spoke again, louder this time. "Mrs. DeLuca?" 

The woman at least looked at him. Her gimlet eye bored a hole into his head. "And you," she said. "I was going to cut you some slack. Give you a chance, because my daughter cares about you--or thinks she does. But you blew it big-time, buddy. Don't think you're ever going to lay eyes on my daughter again." Okay, so it looked like reasonable was not the word. 

"You can't stop me from seeing him!" Maria said fiercely. 

"Oh yes, I can, young lady," her mother replied. "Because you are grounded. Until you're thirty. You will go to school, but that's all. No job, no spending time with your friends--_any_ of them. And you can forget about the play, too." 

Michael watched the hurt flicker through Maria's eyes. Dammit. He might not have put it there directly, but once again it was his fault. He should never have let her stay with him. His fists clenched. "You shouldn't blame her, Mrs. DeLuca. It's not her fault." 

"Shut up, Michael!" Maria protested. 

He ignored her, looking her mother squarely in the eye. "I wanted to talk to her, and she wouldn't, so when I saw her on her way to Liz's, I took her to my apartment. She didn't want to go. It's not her fault," he repeated. 

Amy looked at him skeptically. "And what kept her from leaving?" 

He frowned. "I wouldn't let her. I...I locked her in." 

Once again, Amy ignored her daughter's protests. "So you're basically saying that you abducted my daughter and held her against her will?" 

He nodded. 

Her eyes narrowed, an expression he'd seen before on Maria's face. "Do you realize how much trouble that would get you in? That you could go to jail?" 

He closed his eyes and nodded again. 

"Do you think I'm stupid, Michael?" she asked scathingly. 

What? Fuck. His eyes flew open. "No. Ma'am." 

'Ma'am' wasn't going to cut it this time. "Then don't lie to me. You are already in enough trouble here. Don't make it worse." 

"I'm not lying," he lied. 

"Michael--" Maria began again. Amy held up a hand to silence her daughter and then took a threatening step towards Michael. She looked coldly up at him. 

"First of all, my daughter thinks she cares about you. She wouldn't have any problem whatsoever going to your apartment to...what did you call it? Oh yes, _talk_." 

"Mom!" The air rang with Maria's horrified cry. 

"Second, if you had tried to drag her there against her will, you wouldn't have gotten very far, because I know my daughter and she would have screamed her head off. So perhaps you'd like to stop lying to me before you get yourself in any further." 

Shit. What could he possibly say to get them out of this? He could hardly tell the woman the truth. His brain raced, but came up with nothing, and she was standing there waiting for an answer. An answer he couldn't give. "It's still my fault. Not hers," he said stubbornly. 

Amy turned to her daughter, who was staring in anger up at the tall boy beside her. Well, well. Maybe things weren't all so peachy in Teenage Lust Land after all. "You might want to tell Sir Galahad here that his efforts are worthless. His misguided attempt to blame himself is not going to do you, or him, any good." 

"Tell me something I don't know!" Maria fumed. She looked pointedly up at Michael. "Just where do you get off trying to take the blame, anyway? It was my fault, not yours!" 

He scowled. If he'd just listened to his gut instead of giving in to her like a total wuss, they wouldn't be in this mess. Never again. "I let you stay," he pointed out. "I knew I shouldn't, but I let you." 

"I made you let me!" she yelled at him. 

"Nobody makes me do anything I don't want to do!" he shouted back. He wasn't going to let some chick push him around. Or at least, he was damned if he'd admit it. 

Her voice grew even more sarcastic. "Oh, so you're saying you _wanted_ me over there? You _wanted_ me to spend the night on your couch? You actually _wanted_ to kiss me?" 

"What? Yes! No--I mean--Hell, I don't know, all right?" he stumbled. Stupid girl, getting him all tied up in knots. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. I knew better. It's my fault." 

Amy watched the two teenagers, so engrossed in their argument that they'd obviously forgotten she was there. Which was doing nothing to calm her ire. Enough was enough. She addressed her daughter. "So that's where you were all night. In the apartment of this...this delinquent." 

Maria snapped. "Mom! Get off Michael's case already! Yes, I spent the night at his apartment! Now you know! Happy?" 

"The car's out front. I suggest you get in it," Amy said coldly. 

"Mom--" 

"Car, Maria. Now." 

Maria took a deep breath, visibly reining in her temper. "Fine." She turned to Michael. "I'll talk to you later." 

"I wouldn't count on that if I were you," her mother put in dryly. "Car. Now." With one last look at Michael, who refused to meet her eyes, Maria pushed open the door to the main dining room and headed outside. 

With narrowed eyes, Amy studied the remaining teenager, who stood stiffly with clenched hands. The warning in her tone was perfectly clear. "I don't want you anywhere near my daughter, you hear me?" 

Michael's jaw tightened. "Yeah," he said roughly. "I hear you." 

"Good." Amy picked up the overnight bag that she'd brought with her and strode out. 

Michael watched her go, and then turned on his heel and slammed out the back door.  
  


*****

Max was rudely awakened from a pleasant little dream about Liz and science class when the pounding started. He looked around, momentarily disoriented, before realizing what was happening. This wasn't an unfamiliar scene. "God, Michael," he muttered as he headed towards the window, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "It's seven o'clock on a Saturday morning. Some of us actually like to sleep in, you know." Pushing the curtains aside, he stared at the tense expression on his friend's face, then unlocked the window and moved aside so Michael could climb in. 

"Get Isabel," the spike-headed alien ordered. 

Letting out a small laugh, Max asked, "Are you trying to get me killed, Michael? Because that's what she'll do if I ruin her beauty sleep, you know." 

"Get her," Michael repeated, more urgently this time. 

"No need," said a voice from the doorway. Isabel stood there in her pajamas and bathrobe. "Somebody already did that by banging on your window. Gee, thanks, Michael," she ended sarcastically. "What's going on?" 

The tense look didn't leave Michael's face as he spoke one word. "Maria." 

Isabel was instantly on the alert. "What happened? Is she all right?" 

"I think so. In the sense that we weren't ambushed by her stalker or anything. But..." He looked down at his feet. "I can't watch out for her any more." 

A frown appeared on Max's face. "Why not?" he asked. 

"Because Mrs. DeLuca isn't going to let me anywhere near her daughter," Michael muttered. 

"What? What did you do?" Max asked sharply. 

"Nothing, okay? I didn't do anything. Mrs. DeLuca just found out about last night and went ballistic." He looked away, obviously not wanting them to read anything in his eyes. 

Isabel raised a suggestive eyebrow. "Last night?" she inquired archly. "And just what happened last night that Mrs. DeLuca would get so upset about?" 

Michael immediately knew what she was implying. "Nothing! I didn't touch her!" 

She smiled, more than a little amused by his discomfort. "You didn't?" she teased. 

He turned away and muttered something too low for them to hear. 

"What was that?" Max asked. 

"I said I kissed her, all right?" Michael burst out. Isabel and Max exchanged smiles. Michael ran a hand through his spiky hair as he looked out into the yard. His voice lost all emotion. "It doesn't matter. It didn't mean anything." 

Isabel immediately crossed to him and put supportive arms around him, leaning her cheek against his back. "Of course it meant something, Michael. You care about her." 

He shook his head in denial. "I can't." 

"But you do." 

"I shouldn't. It's all...wrong." 

"But you do," she repeated. 

Michael shook his head again, but didn't answer, and Isabel gave him a quick squeeze. "And she's pretty lucky," she said firmly, before she moved over and sat on Max's bed. She thought she heard Michael mutter a scathing, "Lucky," but he didn't turn around. "So," she asked, changing the subject. "What's the plan, then?" 

"You and I will split the guard duty," Max told her. He turned to Michael. "It's not that I don't trust you with it, it's just that--" 

Michael turned and nodded. "Yeah. If her mom catches me around, my ass is grass. I'll be in jail faster than you can say Czechoslovakian." 

"But you didn't do anything," Isabel protested. 

"She'll come up with something, believe me. You didn't see her, Isabel. You don't mess around with Mrs. DeLuca where Maria is concerned." 

"But if you'd just tell her what happened, that you didn't..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to come up with a delicate way of saying it. 

He ignored the pause. "And you think she'd believe me? Look at me, Izzy. Would you believe anything I said if you were her?" He shook his head, sneering, "I don't think so." 

"She doesn't know you, Michael," she responded. 

"Yeah, well, I don't want her to know me." 

Max brought the subject back to their plans. "Michael, if Isabel and I are watching Maria, maybe you could work on figuring this thing out from the other end." 

Michael nodded. "We need to sit down and talk about that. All of us. Well, the five of us, anyway, since Maria's under house arrest. There have been a few...developments." 

Max and Isabel looked at him, surprised. Michael wanted to sit down and talk? Max shrugged. "Okay, how about we meet at the Crashdown for breakfast?" 

Michael shook his head. "I don't think I can go there." 

"Why not? What did you do?" 

"Nothing. It's just that...well, that's where we were busted. Liz's dad was there, and I don't think he's going to be too happy if I show up again. Ever." 

"Mr. Parker too? God, is there anyone who doesn't think you slept with Maria?" Isabel burst out. 

Michael shrugged. "You. Max. And Maria." 

"It isn't fair!" she said angrily. 

"Not much is," said Michael with another shrug. "But I can't do anything about it, so forget it. Worry about the things we can do." 

She stared at him. Who was the pod-person who had come down and possessed her almost-brother? Since when was he mature and reasonable? She kind of liked it. "Okay," she agreed. "Why don't you head back home? We'll call Alex and Liz and meet you at your place. Oh, and we'll stop off at the Donut Shack and bring breakfast, too." 

Michael's face lit up. "Chocolate. Get lots of chocolate-covered ones." 

She laughed. Maybe he wasn't so mature after all. "You got it." 

He moved back towards the window, then stopped and turned. "Maxwell?" 

Max looked at him warmly. "We'll work this out, Michael. All of us, together." 

Michael nodded. "Thanks," he said, and then he was gone.  
  
TBC...  
  



	42. Masques: Chapter 42

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 42_

Three aliens and two humans sat in Michael's shabby apartment a little later that morning, a couple of empty donut boxes and a bottle of Tabasco all that remained of their informal breakfast. With some embarrassment, Michael had once again described Mrs. DeLuca's blowup, and now Liz was in the middle of telling her part of the story. 

"She just showed up with Maria's overnight bag, and that's when my dad found out she wasn't with me. I didn't tell anyone where she was, honestly." Her brown eyes pleaded with Michael to believe her. "I wouldn't do that." 

Michael shrugged. "We should have gotten there earlier." 

"Liz, are you okay?" put in Max. "Did you get in trouble, too?" 

She shook her head. "Let's just say that I'm not in my father's good graces right now, but I'm not under house arrest like Maria, either. Actually, I'm surprised I didn't have to cover at the Crashdown since Maria isn't working her shifts." 

Michael shifted uncomfortably, then said gruffly, "Sorry. Didn't mean to cause problems for you." 

Liz smiled at him, surprised by this un-Michaelish behavior. "I know you didn't. And thank you." He looked at the wall across from him, suddenly not willing to meet anyone's eyes. 

"One of us should probably get over there, Max," Isabel said. "We're giving the stalker a chance to slip through our defenses." 

Liz shook her head. "It's not going to do you any good. She's not allowed to see anyone. She's barely allowed to talk on the phone. Her mother's really upset." 

Michael began to pace across the small room. "Then how the hell can we keep her safe?" he muttered. 

"Figure out who it is, and stop them," put in Alex reasonably. Michael and Isabel both rolled their eyes. "Anybody come up with a suspect?" 

"That's not so easy, Alex," Liz pointed out. "We don't have enough clues, remember?" 

"We might have one more," Michael said unexpectedly. All eyes fastened on him. "Last night, I tried to get a vision from the latest note." 

"Did it work, Michael?" asked Isabel in some excitement. "Did you see something?" 

"Yeah. But it wasn't what I thought I'd see." 

"Well, don't just leave us hanging, explain!" she commanded. 

He raised an eyebrow at her, but complied. "I thought I might've figured out who sent the note. But I was wrong." 

"Who? What did you see? God, getting answers from him is like pulling teeth," she said to the others in an aside. 

"Well, if you'd actually let me talk, maybe I could tell you," Michael said with a smirk. 

"Get to the point, Michael!" 

"I was thinking about who might've sent it, and I don't think they meant Maria to think it was from me. So I was thinking about people whose names began with M, who've been around lately, and I came up with--" 

"Mark," Alex said, suddenly realizing where this was going. 

"Yep." Michael crossed over to the counter and picked up his sketchbook, flipping it open to the page he'd spent most of the night working on. Once Maria had gone back to sleep, that is. 

"But it wasn't him?" asked Liz. "You saw that in your vision?" 

"Not unless he's taken to wearing fingernail polish," Michael announced. "It took me a while to figure out, but what I saw was a hand writing the note. And it was definitely a girl. Had that red stuff gooped all over her fingers. You know, Isabel, the one you wear a lot. More of a cranberry than a true red." He looked around to see their startled expressions. "So I remember colors. So sue me," he said rudely, tossing the sketch pad to Alex, who was nearest. 

Alex studied the penciled drawing. It showed a distinctly feminine hand, holding a pen. "A girl, huh?" he mused. "Well, that narrows it down to about half the population." 

"There's something else," added Michael. "Another reason I thought it was Mark was that I saw him. In the park. So I came back here to try and get some confirmation." 

"But it wasn't him," Liz objected. "You just said so." She took the sketchbook from Alex. 

"Yeah, but the point is, he wasn't alone. He had a girl with him. One of the chicks from the play." 

"Brunette or blond?" asked Alex excitedly. 

"Blond. Short." 

"It's got to be Melanie Royer," Alex decided. "Debbie and Pamela are both brunettes." 

"And there's your M," added Isabel. "But why would she be harassing Maria? She's just a regular girl." 

"I don't know. But I'm gonna find out," said Michael with determination. 

As she listened, Liz inspected the drawing. "This is really good, Michael," she commented. 

"Let me see," said Isabel. Liz handed her the pad. "She's right," the alien said in a pleased tone. She started to flip through the pages, only to have it taken summarily from her hands. 

"Off limits." Michael's tone was uncompromising. 

"Why? What else have you got in there?" Isabel asked, her curiosity piqued. 

Michael ignored her, closing the sketchbook firmly and carefully placing it on the counter behind him. Isabel raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Michael," she nagged. "You're only making me more curious. Hand it over." 

Michael folded his arms across his chest. 

"Leave him alone, Izzy," cautioned Max. "We have planning to do." 

"Done," said Michael matter-of-factly. "You two and Liz get as close to Maria as her mother will allow. At the very least, keep the lines of communication open. Have her phone if something else happens. Before it happens, even. Alex, investigate that Melanie chick. Get on your computer and find out everything you can about her." 

Four faces turned to him in surprise. "What?" he asked defensively. 

"Well, what are you going to do?" demanded Isabel. 

Michael looked her squarely in the eye. "I'm gonna go finish building me some plants." With a pointed look, he grabbed his sketchpad and headed out of the apartment. 

"Wow," said Alex with a grin. "That's nowhere near the same Michael as even a couple of weeks ago. I'm kind of impressed." 

His eyes on the door through which his friend had disappeared, Max said softly, "Yeah. Me too."  
  


*****

Liz pushed the hair back from her forehead and resettled the alien antennae on her head. She'd hardly been home for two minutes before her father had asked her to cover Maria's waitressing shifts. She should have known that he'd think of it. And of course, with him peeved at her, she could hardly say no. She was just lucky that he hadn't thought of it soon enough to keep her from that morning's impromptu meeting. 

She wondered how Maria was doing. She knew her friend was probably going crazy from the enforced solitude. For the most part, Maria didn't deal well with no one to talk to. She didn't like being alone. And now to be sequestered away...she had to be completely bonkers by now. With a sigh, Liz decided that once the double shift was over, she would try calling Maria again. Maybe this time Mrs. DeLuca would allow her to spend more than two minutes on the phone. 

Carrying over a bus tub, she began to clear the dishes from an empty table. She looked up tiredly as the bell rang and the front door opened. Leaving the table half bussed, she dumped the almost empty tub in the kitchen and ran for the phone in back. She knew Alex's line would be busy, his modem tying up the line as he hacked away at the school records and anything else he could find on Melanie, which left Max and Isabel. Inwardly debating for a second and a half, she dialed Isabel's cell phone. 

The alien must have been expecting a call, because she answered it on the first ring. "You need to get to the Crashdown right away," said Liz urgently. "You'll never guess who just came in. Pamela Harris and Melanie Royer." A moment later the call was disconnected and Liz was heading back out into the main dining room. 

Barely five minutes had passed before Isabel strolled casually into the restaurant. She spotted Liz instantly, and the waitress glanced over at a booth, signaling her target's location. Luckily the next booth was available, and Isabel slid into it, her back to the two girls. 

"Hi, Isabel," said Liz as she carried over a couple of soft drinks. "I'll be with you in a minute." 

"No problem," Isabel returned with a nonchalant smile. "You look pretty busy." 

Obviously, the pair in the next booth overheard this exchange. "Yeah, we couldn't help but notice that, too," commented Melanie. "Where's Maria? Isn't she working today?" 

"No, not today," responded Liz as she set down their drinks. 

"Oh," said Pamela with disinterest. "I thought maybe she was sick or something." 

"Nope," Liz said, shaking her head. "Ummm...I'll be back with your order in a minute." She headed back to the counter, trying to keep an inconspicuous eye on the pair as she worked. 

Isabel approached her near the door to the break room about forty minutes later. "They're finishing up," she said in a low tone. "I'll give Max a heads up and he can tail Melanie to see if she strikes again." 

"Did you overhear anything?" Liz queried. 

"No, just mindless chat about clothes and things." Isabel frowned. "God, please tell me I was never that shallow." 

Liz pretended to consider for a moment. "Well, only in public," she said with a small grin. Isabel gave her an exasperated look, but then laughed as she headed back to her booth. Watching her go, Liz bit her lip. She hoped this would be over soon. It had to be.  
  


*****

"God, I hope this is over soon!" Maria complained as she set her lunch down on the table in the cafeteria. "I mean, I'm practically living like a nun!" 

"Maria, you're not even Catholic," Liz reminded her. 

"I know. But the whole weekend was like being in a convent. You know, where everyone has taken a vow of silence." Her nose wrinkled up. "Or do I mean a monastery? Anyway, my mother barely spoke to me until last night." 

"It's amazing you survived," teased Liz with a grin. 

"Lizzy!" Maria pouted. 

Liz looked sympathetically at her best friend. "No, really, 'Ria, how are you handling it?" 

"Well, it's not as bad as I thought it was going to be," Maria admitted. "Mom and I had a very...well, let's just say _painful_ conversation last night. But after hours of begging, I actually got her to listen to me." 

An inquiring expression crossed Liz's face. "About...what, exactly?" 

"Well, of course I couldn't tell her everything," Maria said. "I mean, some things are just not for public consumption, you know? Even if there weren't Czechoslovakians involved. But I think I finally managed to convince her that Michael and I did not sleep together." 

"Really? That's good," Liz commented. 

"Yeah. I told her he was a perfect gentleman the whole time. Although I don't think she bought that part. She really has it in for him." Maria frowned as she unwrapped her sandwich. 

"Well, was he? A perfect gentleman, I mean?" Liz dared to ask. 

Maria sighed. "Unfortunately, yes." Her face brightened. "Well, he did kiss me." 

Liz pounced on this. "Really? When? Details, I want details!" 

"I can't give you many, chica, because almost as soon as he started, someone burst into the room to make sure I was okay." Maria stared pointedly at Liz, who grimaced. 

"Oooh. Sorry." 

"Oh, it's not your fault. The others were with you too," Maria assured her. "It's just...it'd been months, and we were arguing and suddenly he was...kissing me...and it felt so good...and then the door started to open and he dropped me like a hot potato." She smiled ruefully at Liz's contrite expression and brought the subject back to her mother. "Never mind. Anyway, Mom's no longer caught up on the whole 'my teenage daughter had sex with a juvenile delinquent' kick, so things are looking up." 

"What? You mean you're not grounded anymore?" 

"No such luck. Let's see, I still stayed out all night with a boy--and it was Michael, which makes it even worse, if that were possible. And then there's the fact that I might just have slightly overreacted when she found out about it. Let me tell you, Liz, yelling at your mother is not the way to assure a busy social life." 

"_Slightly_ overreacted?" responded Liz in disbelief. "Michael did tell us what happened, you know." She paused. "Although I get the feeling he didn't tell us everything." 

"Yeah, well, when does he ever?" complained Maria. "Oh well. At least Mom has calmed down enough to let me off the hook as far as the Crashdown and the play are concerned. Unfortunately, I still can't hang out with any of you guys. And--get this--she actually forbade me to so much as _speak_ to Michael!" 

"But now that she knows you haven't slept together--" 

"It doesn't matter. She's still all ticked because she thinks I lied to her. And I didn't, Liz, not really. I mean, when I told her I was going to be at your house, I honestly meant it. I just didn't let her know when my plans changed, that's all. But she thinks I wouldn't have lied or stayed out all night if it weren't for Michael. Which is true, I guess. Except that she thinks he's a bad influence on me, which is _not_ true. Anyway, she hates him, hence the whole 'forbidden to speak to him' thing." 

"And you're going to just accept that?" Liz asked in astonishment, knowing her friend's feelings for the alien in question. 

Maria's face darkened. "I don't have much choice," she said in a low voice. 

"What do you mean?" said Liz in trepidation. 

"Because when I said hello to him before English this morning, he turned his back on me and totally ignored my existence," Maria said. Her eyes began to shine, but a bout of rapid blinking kept the tears in check. "And, Lizzy? You know what really sucks? He does it so much better than I did." 

A moment of unspoken sympathy between the two friends was interrupted by the approach of Isabel, Max and Alex. The lanky teen greeted Maria warmly. "So how's it feel to be let out of the tower, Rapunzel?" he quipped. 

"Nice," Maria admitted. "I was going a little stir crazy." 

"And Mrs. DeLuca has relented enough to let Maria do the play and go to work," Liz put in, "so no more make-up shifts for me!" 

"Are you kidding? Once the play is over, I'm going to be begging your dad for extra shifts just so I can get out of the house, since I'm grounded until I'm thirty," Maria said with a sigh. She watched the others start in on their lunches. "Okay, so where is he?" 

Everyone knew immediately whom she meant. "I think he's putting some finishing touches on the plant puppets. He did a lot of work on them this weekend, when he wasn't at the gas station. He wanted them to be ready for today's rehearsal," answered Isabel calmly. Maybe too calmly. 

Maria's eyes lit up. "Really?" she said, excitement raising her voice. "We'll have them at rehearsal today? That's great!" Looking around at the four friends around her, she pointed out, "Hey, other than lunch time, the play's the only time when I'm actually allowed to enjoy myself nowadays. Don't blame me if I get excited about it." She took a sip of her bottled water. "So," she continued calmly, "Is he avoiding everyone again, or am I the only one blessed this time?" The guilty looks on their faces answered her immediately. "Fantastic," she muttered. "I'm the only one. Meet Maria DeLuca, Queen of the Lepers." 

Liz immediately began to protest, and Maria cut her off. "Don't worry about it. His loss. Let's talk about something else, okay?" She looked around, trying to come up with a fresh topic of conversation, and her eyes lit on Isabel. "Hey, Isabel," she asked, "you done any dreamwalking lately?" 

The alien shook her head. "No, not since we got Mi--not since you went with me the last time." 

"Ha! I knew it was real!" Maria exclaimed. Seeing everyone's confusion, she asked, "Michael told you about the dream we had on Friday, didn't he?", totally ignoring the fact that she'd brought the topic back to the spiky-haired alien in less than ten seconds. 

"'The dream we had'? Both of you?" asked Isabel sharply. "Michael dreamwalked you?" 

"He didn't tell you." It wasn't a question this time. She should have known. 

"He didn't tell us anything about that," Max said. "Just about the vision." 

"The vision? He figured out what he saw in the vision?" Maria could hear her own voice rise in pitch with her agitation. "When did he figure it out?" 

All four of them exchanged glances. Finally, Liz spoke. "Sometime Friday night, I think. He told us about it at breakfast on Saturday." 

"I see," said Maria slowly. "So he knew about it on the way to the Crashdown, and he didn't even bother to tell me about it." No one spoke. "Well, what was it? What did he see?" 

After a glance around at the others, Liz described the sketch and the conclusions they'd drawn from it. Afterwards, Maria sat quietly, obviously mulling this over. "Interesting," was all she had to say. 

Isabel, relieved that Maria had taken it all so calmly, spoke up. "So what was this about Michael dreamwalking you?" she asked. "I didn't think he could do that." 

"As far as I know, he can't," Maria responded. "When you dreamwalk, you go into someone else's dream, right?" Isabel nodded. "So if Michael had dreamwalked me, he would have come into whatever I was dreaming?" 

"That's the way it works," Isabel said. 

"Well, he didn't dreamwalk then. Because he didn't visit my dream. I was dreaming and went through a door, and then I was in his dream. With him." 

"You dreamwalked Michael?" Isabel said in shock. "By yourself?" 

"I guess," said Maria, gathering up her things as the bell rang. 

"How is that even possible?" asked Liz. 

"I don't know. Why don't you ask Michael?" Maria said. "Since he's so good at sharing things with people, you know." She smiled at them. "Look, I have to get to class. I can't afford to be late and get my mom even more pissed than she already is. Talk to Michael about it." She started across the cafeteria, calling back over her shoulder, "I'll see you at rehearsal, Alex." Liz followed hard on her heels. 

"Wait, Maria," the brunette said as she pulled the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. "Are you okay?" 

"Oh yeah, my life is just peachy," said Maria, not bothering to hide her sarcasm. "I'm under house arrest, I'm being sent threatening notes by a crazy person, and I'm in love with an infuriating, stubborn jackass who can't even be bothered to talk to me and share with me vital information about said threatening notes from said crazy person, even though it has a direct bearing on my well-being!" Her voice rose to a screech. A gleam appeared in her eye. 

Liz looked at her apprehensively. "What...what are you going to do?" she fumbled. 

Maria's grin was almost wolfish. "He may not be speaking to me, but that doesn't mean I'm not speaking to him. And believe me, I have a few things to say! He thinks my mother was bad? Well, he hasn't seen anything yet!" And with that, she headed down the hall to her next class. 

Liz just stood and watched her. Oh lord. Michael had better watch out. Hurricane DeLuca was about to hit.  
  
TBC...  
  



	43. Masques: Chapter 43

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 43_

Michael stood back and studied the plant puppets that were sitting in the corner of the shop room. He'd worked his ass off on them over the weekend, only taking time away to work at the gas station. It was okay; he didn't need to sleep anyway, not when he was gonna dream about...whatever. Never mind. 

He was lucky he'd been able to control his powers long enough to undo the locks on the school, and no one had noticed the light shining in the shop room at night. And now, the plants were just about done. 

He'd made four of them, ranging from a hand-size plant in a pot to a gigantic, flytrap-looking thing, big enough to swallow a human. He'd started with the sketches Ms. Bedinger had shown him and the information in the back of the script, and had let his imagination go from there. 

He tried to decide if the biggest plant needed a touch more purple, but shook his head and decided to let it rest. He looked up as he felt someone approach. It was not someone that he particularly wanted to see. 

"Nice job," commented Mark. The alien didn't answer, just went back to studying his handiwork. Mark continued, undaunted. "I heard you were about finished with them, so I thought I'd come check them out. They look great. When are you going to start using them? You're going to have to get used to working with Brian, to make sure your movements coordinate with his vocals, and--" 

What the hell was he talking about? At Michael's look of bafflement, Mark slowed to a stop. "You are working the puppets, right?" he asked. Michael gave him a disbelieving look. "You built them. I guess I just assumed..." the senior started. 

Michael found his voice. "Do I look like I want to waste any more time on your lame-ass play?" he asked scathingly. 

Mark's brow wrinkled. "If you're not interested in theater, why'd you agree to build them in the first place?" He sounded sincere, like he really wanted to know. Michael didn't buy it. The guy might not be Maria's stalker, but he wasn't to be trusted, either. He was obviously up to something. Why else come talk to Michael? 

"Whitman asked me to do it," he said brusquely. 

"Alex Whitman? The bass player?" Michael gave a single affirmative nod. "Oh," Mark said. "I thought maybe it was because of Maria." 

Turning abruptly away, Michael denied it with one word. "No." Reaching out, he ran a hand over the shell of the largest plant, as if to test the dryness of the paint. He could feel Mark studying him, and it was starting to piss him off. The guy was off his stalker suspect list. Michael didn't need him hanging around. It was lunch time, so why wasn't he off eating or studying his lines or something? 

Mark appeared to be toying with how to approach the next subject. Michael purposely didn't give him any encouragement. The senior finally grimaced and said, "Look, Guerin, I don't know what's up with you and Maria--" 

Michael broke in with a curt, "Nothing." Mark went on, ignoring the interruption. 

"--but it's pretty damn obvious that she's hung up on you." 

Great. Just what he didn't need, a heart-to-heart with Actorboy. What was up with him, anyway? He couldn't be after Maria, not after the grope session he and Melanie had put on in the park the other night. Or maybe he was, the horndog. Wait--what was he going on about now? 

"...because we only have nine more days before the show opens, and I can't afford to have her lose focus. It's my last year here, and I'm going to damn well make sure that this show is fucking fantastic." He looked over at Michael, who was still pretending to check out the paint job. "The show may not mean anything to you, but it means a hell of a lot to me and Maria and everyone else who's involved. So don't screw it up for us." 

Michael swung around and looked him squarely in the eye. "Just what are you asking me to do? And why should I care enough to do it?" 

"I'm asking you not to do anything to...upset Maria. This is her first show and she needs to concentrate. She could be really great if she doesn't have any distractions. So don't distract her. Leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do. As for why you should do it, I guess you'll have to work that out on your own." 

Michael's eyes narrowed menacingly. What a total prick. "You only care about how your little play comes off, don't you? You have no concern for what Maria might actually be feeling, as long as it doesn't hurt her performance. You don't care about her at all," he challenged. 

Mark didn't back down. "Do you?" He headed toward the door, then stopped and added, "You really have done a great job on the plants. Maybe you should give theater a chance. You might find out it's not so 'lame-ass' after all." He pushed the shop doors open and headed into the hall, leaving Michael staring silently after him. 

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, Michael shook his head to clear it and slouched off to class. Instead of dragging on like every other school day, the afternoon seemed to speed by, and suddenly he found himself in the hallway, on his way to the last class of the day. World History. With Maria. 

He wasn't looking forward to the class, not that he ever did. But today she'd either be ticked that he'd ignored her that morning, or she'd act overly happy to show she didn't care, or she'd pretend he wasn't there either. And he wasn't sure which would be worst. 

He knew he'd hurt her by shutting her out again. But so many things were telling him to leave her alone: his gut, his brain...not to mention her mother. Although, thanks to Mark's little speech, he was sorely tempted to become her new best friend just to piss the guy off. If he wanted to, he could provide plenty of distraction. Of course, she might distract him just as much...No, backing away was the right thing to do. He just had to make it through the afternoon. He'd worry about later...well, later. 

He steeled himself as he approached the classroom door. Sure enough, her voice came as he was stepping through the doorway. "Hey, Michael," she said from behind him. He just kept moving into the classroom. Sitting down, he pulled out a pen and started to doodle aimlessly on the cover of his notebook. 

He could do this. He would just ignore the fact that she was standing next to him, looking down with fire in her eyes. He wouldn't listen to whatever it was that she was running on about. He would show no reaction to anything. 

Too bad he couldn't fall into a voice-induced trance. That would be a great thing right now. He would just go away to wherever, and by the time he came out of it, maybe she'd have gone away and Mrs. Lyons would be talking instead. Even listening to the lecture would be better than this. 

With a sudden start, he realized that he hadn't had a blackout the whole weekend. Not since the one in his apartment Friday night. Figured. When he didn't want them, they came without warning. When he did want them, no dice. Maybe he could fake one... 

He was rescued by the arrival of the teacher, which sent Maria hurrying to her desk. Saved. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

As Mrs. Lyons began the class, Michael studied the geometric designs he'd doodled on his notebook. With a few extra pen strokes, he fleshed one of them out, making it appear three-dimensional. Throughout the lecture, he continued to draw, looking up at the teacher only occasionally. It wasn't like he had any interest in--what was the topic?--oh yeah, Spanish exploration of North America, anyway. 

His interest was drawn however, as a familiar voice spoke. 

"But Coronado had already explored the whole area, looking for the Seven Cities of Gold, right?" Maria asked. The teacher nodded. 

"It's nice to see you were actually paying some attention to the lectures last week, Maria. Yes, you're right, Spain had explored much of what is now the interior United States, but didn't include what its explorers found on printed maps well into the nineteenth century." 

Maria frowned in concentration. "So what you're saying is that, if Spain had published maps of what Coronado and Onate and the other explorers discovered back in the 1500's, it could have used the maps--proof that they'd been there--to help them claim ownership later. Basically, it didn't share important information and lost out because of it," she wound up, carefully stressing her last statement to give it extra significance. Michael wasn't looking at her, but he could tell she had turned in his direction. He stared at the blackboard. Not exactly subtle, that Maria. 

So. She'd obviously found out about the vision, that he'd figured it out and hadn't told her. He hadn't purposely made the decision not to tell her; he'd just--well, to be honest, he'd been tired and in a crappy mood that morning. He hadn't felt like talking. And since he hadn't expected her mother to be lying in wait, he'd just figured he had plenty of time to tell her later. Not that she'd believe that now. And then they'd gotten to the Crashdown, and everything had happened so fast, and the next thing he knew, Mrs. DeLuca was warning him away from her daughter, and life officially sucked. Big time. 

His pen continued to glide over the notebook cover, biting in more deeply now. Geometric shapes were filled in and then ruthlessly obliterated by additional layers of ink. He wasn't alone. He could feel the angry vibes pouring off of Maria in waves. The vibrations were so strong that he was surprised the windows hadn't shattered. And so when the bell rang, he reacted instinctively. He did what he was best at. He ran. 

He shouldered his way roughly through the people in the hallway, telling himself that he wasn't a total wuss for running from a girl. He wasn't scared of her, not really. She couldn't exactly hurt him, and if she could, well, Hank had gotten him used to that. No, he was more afraid of what _he_ might do. 

And even though she had no idea of the real reasons, Mrs. DeLuca was right. He had no business being anywhere near her daughter. No matter how much he might wish it were different. 

"Hey, Guerin!" The shout caught his attention. What now? He bristled. If Blumenthal thought he was gonna have another little talk, he had another think coming. Michael might just have to deck him. 

But it wasn't Mark who jogged up to him. It was Kyle Valenti. Star quarterback, captain of the basketball team, and the latest (and hopefully last) human to find out about the three aliens' otherworldly status. Michael hadn't spoken to him since Kyle was shot and Max healed him. Then again, they didn't really talk before then, either. They moved in totally different circles. Well, Kyle moved in a circle. Michael's circle only had five other people in it--he could hardly even call it a dot. 

"Valenti," he said, his tone wary. 

"I heard you're unveiling the plants today," Kyle said. "Came to see if you needed some help getting them to the auditorium." 

Michael, being Michael, was immediately suspicious. "I didn't know you were such a theater buff." 

Kyle grinned. "I'm not. But it's a great place to meet girls." 

"There are only four girls in the play, and you already know them," Michael pointed out. 

"True," responded the athlete. "It's not a big deal. A couple of guys and I always help out backstage, pushing the set around and stuff. It's a favor for Ms. Bedinger." 

Michael had major difficulty dealing with the idea that someone might actually want to do a favor for a teacher, but he let it go. He shrugged. "Plants are in the shop room," was all he said. 

It took several trips for the two of them to get the puppets from the shop to the stage. They left the biggest one for last, working without talking. Finally, Kyle broke the silence. 

"Look, Guerin. I'm trying to deal with everything that happened last spring." Michael stiffened. "I'm not going to tell anyone about it or anything. I just have some questions, and I need to talk to someone about them." 

Michael began listing names. "Liz. Maria. Alex. Hell, even your father." 

With a shake of his head, Kyle said, "No. I mean someone...well, you know, a visitor." He glanced carefully around to make sure no one was listening. 

Michael shifted his grip on the plant. His voice was gruff. "Then talk to Max. I'm not your man." 

"Yes, you are," insisted Kyle. "I don't want to talk to Max; he and I have too much history, what with Liz and then everything that happened in May. And Isabel? Tess Harding? Uh-uh. I think I'd prefer a guy's point of view. That leaves you." 

"How flattering," was Michael's sarcastic response. Kyle grinned. 

"Well, I'm not trying to date you, sport. I just want some answers." 

Valenti was out of luck there. "I don't have any." 

"I'll take whatever I can get," Kyle said. "I just want to figure out what it all means. So, what do you think? Can we talk about it some time?" 

What did he think? Kyle Valenti was coming to him to talk? Lately, Michael had a hard enough time talking to Max, his best friend, and now this jock wanted to discuss the big significant questions of his existence? Valenti was nuts if he thought Michael had any answers for him. He could forget it. Michael opened his mouth to turn the guy down. And then with shock, he heard his own voice. "Sure. Why the hell not?" 

"Great," answered Kyle. Together, they set the puppet down on the stage and Michael stood, his mind whirling. What had he just done? He had to get out of there, and fast. Or else he was pretty sure he'd end up doing something else crazy, like joining the chess club. Or standing at the center of the stage and announcing to the world that he was an alien. Besides, by clearing out he could also avoid the determined blonde that was heading down an auditorium aisle, directly towards him. 

"Gotta go," Michael blurted and bolted for the second time that afternoon. No, Michael Guerin wasn't afraid of a girl. No way. Right. Face it: he didn't remember anything about his supposed previous existence, but in whatever language he had spoken, the name 'Michael Guerin' probably translated as 'totally chickenshit.'  
  


*****

With a frustrated shriek, Maria watched as Michael jumped lightly down off the stage and headed out the side door. Oh yes. Let him run. But when she finally got her hands on him...well, she didn't mean that literally. Or come to think of it, maybe she did. She laughed to herself. Only Michael could get her this angry and this...not angry, all at the same time. 

"Having problems with loverboy?" said Mark, coming up behind her. "He seemed to take off awfully quickly." 

"He probably had somewhere else he needed to be," she said. "He works, you know." 

"Didn't know. Didn't particularly care," he responded cheerfully. "So, you ready for a good run-through?" 

"Yeah, I guess so. It's exciting to finally have the plants to work with." 

"I have to admit it, Guerin did a good job on them," said Mark with satisfaction. "Not too shabby, huh?" 

Maria grinned at him. "Sure. It's amazing what you can do with a little canvas, some chicken wire and a complete lack of know-how." But all joking aside, she was really impressed. It was obvious that Michael must have spent hours on them, and she'd wager that it was all done by hand--no powers. Plus Alex had finally admitted that it had been his idea, and that Michael had only agreed to build them to have an excuse to hang around and watch out for her. A foolish-looking grin grew on her face. It was getting harder and harder to stay angry with the big lunkhead. Not that she had any intention of letting _him_ know that. He was still going to regret leaving her out of things. 

It was one thing for him not to share stuff with anyone. She knew how hard it was for him to open up, and she'd promised to try not to pressure him into it when he wasn't ready. Which hadn't been easy for her. But it was a totally different matter when he voluntarily told other people, but purposely left her out. No sir, Spaceboy was going to have to admit he'd made a big mistake there. And she was going to have fun tormenting him until he did. She had plenty of time to plan. After all, she was grounded--what else was she going to do? Homework?  
  


*****

Wearily, Michael shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and headed down the stairs to begin the trek to school. He'd had another long, sleepless night. But this time there were no plants to work on and no Maria to guard, so he'd spent the night sprawled on his couch, staring at the ceiling, trying not to think, and waiting for morning. 

He'd even finished Oliver Twist. He'd have to go exchange it for another book--maybe A Tale of Two Cities this time. He'd never bothered to read it when they'd studied it in English last year. And since he'd told Maria he was working his way through Dickens, maybe he should actually do it. Victorian melodrama wasn't really his style; he preferred more modern writers, like Joyce and even Hemingway. But he'd come up with the excuse as a way to fob Maria off when she'd been so shocked at his choice of reading matter. He hadn't been about to tell her that he'd picked up the novel out of curiosity because he'd found out from Isabel that Maria loved the movie based on the musical based on the book. 

Pushing open the door to the apartment building, he stepped outside and stopped in his tracks. It was snowing. It wasn't often that it was both cold enough and humid enough to snow in Roswell, and he was fascinated by it each time. He stood and watched as the flurries danced around on columns of crisp air, to hit his jacket and the ground and melt away into nothingness. 

A car horn broke into his thoughts. He looked up to see the Jeep, top up, at the curb, Max behind the wheel and Isabel smiling at him from the back seat. "Get in," Max called, holding the door flap open. "We'll give you a lift to school." 

Heading over to them, Michael swung himself into the passenger seat, fastening the canvas behind him. "Hey." 

"As soon as I looked out the window this morning, I knew we'd have to come over and get you," Isabel teased as Max pulled out onto the road. "Otherwise you'd be standing there watching it snow all day." 

Michael shrugged and looked out the window. She was probably right. He could feel Max taking occasional glances over at him, but his friend didn't say anything. Finally, Michael called him on it. "What's on your mind, Maxwell?" 

"Are you going to join us for lunch today?" his friend asked carefully. 

Michael's answer was curt. "Nope." 

"You can't avoid her forever, you know." 

"I can try," Michael spat out. Then his voice calmed a little, and he said, "It's better this way. Easier." 

"Are you sure of that?" Isabel asked from the back seat. 

Was she kidding? He wasn't sure of anything any more. So he didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "Alex find out anything yet?" 

Isabel sighed. "No, as far as he can tell, Melanie Royer is a perfectly normal high school student. B average. Member of the Drama and Speech clubs. Has lived in Roswell all her life. Nothing unusual." 

"Great." Well, they'd have to go back to nontraditional information gathering. "Who's got the notes now? The old ones, I mean. Maybe I can try to pick something up from them again." 

"Maria still has them. Why don't you find her and ask her for them?" Isabel suggested sweetly. 

"Why don't you do it and bring them to me?" he retorted. 

"Come on, guys. Knock it off," Max commanded. "I'll get the notes from Maria and bring them to you, Michael. All right?" Neither of his companions answered. "All right," he said decisively. 

And that was the last thing said for the duration of the short trip to school. Max concentrated on driving, Michael stared out the window at the snow flurries, and Isabel stared pointedly at Michael. 

They finally pulled into a spot in the school parking lot, and Michael was instantly out of the Jeep. "Thanks for the ride," he said roughly before disappearing into the crowd of students heading for the school. 

Isabel leaned back with a sigh and looked at her brother. "God, why does he have to be so difficult? For once, why can't he do things the easy way?" 

"Because then he wouldn't be Michael," Max pointed out with a grin.  
  


*****

Michael managed to make it all the way into the building and halfway to his locker before he was stopped. This time it wasn't Blumenthal or Valenti, it was a teacher. "Good morning, Michael," said Ms. Bedinger. "Do you have a minute?" 

Michael shrugged half-heartedly. Ms. Bedinger smiled at him. 

"First of all," she began, "I am very pleased with the job you've done on the plant puppets. It's excellent work, and you should be very proud of it." Michael shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Not only have you enabled us to put on the show, but you've gone above and beyond with some truly exceptional work. Thank you, Michael." 

"No problem," he managed, clearly unused to praise from an adult. 

"Secondly, Kyle Valenti has agreed to be our puppeteer," Ms. Bedinger went on, oblivious to the smirk that crossed Michael's face. "Would you be available after school to go over the plants with him and show him how everything works?" 

"I guess so," he muttered. 

"Very good!" the teacher said in a satisfied tone. "We'll see you at the rehearsal then. And Michael," she continued. "I would be more than pleased to have you work on any of our future productions, if you're interested. Think about it." With that, she started down the hallway. 

Yeah, right. After this, they'd have to pay him to get anywhere near a theater. He could just see it now: "Well, gosh, Max, I'd love to come help you fight your interplanetary war, but I've got to make sure the paint on this set doesn't clash with the costumes. Can you hold off until the show closes?" Yup, save it for the lame-ass actors like Blumenthal and the idiots who let themselves get suckered into it, like Valenti. It sure wasn't for him.  
  


*****

And yet there he was, seven hours later, standing backstage with Kyle and showing him how the puppets worked. "It's got a slit in the lower lining," Michael said as they studied the largest plant. "When someone is eaten, they make sure their feet go in first, through the slit, and crouch down. You bring the upper lip down over them, and then they can crawl backwards through the slit and out the escape hatch in the back." 

Kyle nodded. "Looks easy enough." He looked hopefully at Michael. "Look, they're your puppets. You sure you don't want to work them?" 

Michael's response was instant. "Hell, no." 

"Okay, okay, just asking." He rubbed a hand across his jaw. "Man, I'm telling you to watch out for Ms. Bedinger. The woman can talk you into anything." 

Michael said, amused, "So that's how you ended up doing this?" 

"Yeah. Watch out, or you could be next." 

"Not gonna happen. I've got other commitments," Michael told him. 

"So do I. But that didn't stop her. You should have seen her taking on Coach Allen to get me out of practice for these rehearsals...she is fierce. And she calls this puppet thing a 'promotion' from stage crew. I don't know. I kind of liked it on stage crew." Kyle eyed two of his friends, who were moving a bunch of painted flats in and stacking them against the wall. 

"So tell Ms. Bedinger you don't want to do this," Michael suggested dispassionately. "Go join your buddies and move walls." 

"They're called flats," Kyle told him. "They're made of two-by-fours and plywood. They're not walls, they just look that way." 

Michael looked at him. Did the jock really think he gave a damn what they were called? Turning his back on him, he allowed his eyes to wander around the stage. He hadn't seen Maria yet. He knew she was around somewhere, but he was hoping to finish up with Valenti and get out of there before she saw him. It had worked yesterday, and he'd been successful in ignoring her in both English and History today. Maybe his luck would continue to hold. 

Raised voices caught his attention, and he turned back to Kyle. His so-called buddies were horsing around, evidently giving him a hard time about his 'promotion'. 

"Hey, Puppet Man!" one called, giving Kyle a teasing shove. But a big enough shove to send the football player reeling into a stack of flats and send them plummeting towards the stage. 

But not directly towards the stage. Michael caught a tiny glimpse of a blond head directly in their path. His heart froze. Oh god. Maria. 

In a flash, Michael was there, reaching out and shoving her roughly out of the way. She made it clear, tumbling with a cry to her hands and knees. Michael wasn't so lucky. The flats fell towards him, catching him squarely on his temple. He felt a sharp pain on the side of his head, and everything went black.  
  
TBC...  
  



	44. Masques: Chapter 44

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 44_

He came to, confused, his head swimming. Everything hurt. God, was Hank at it again? He had to get up, then. There was nothing his foster father liked more than a helpless target. One hand was caught under him; he tried to brace it and use it to push upwards, but didn't get very far. Something was pinning him to the floor. The ringing in his ears died down a little, though, and he began to hear a babble of voices. 

Not Hank this time. Hank was gone, and he was on his own. A moment later he remembered where he was, what had happened. Maria. Was she all right? He felt the weight on top of him getting lighter as the flats were moved aside, and he realized that someone was holding his outstretched hand, gripping it tightly. He knew who it was, too. He could hear her, repeating his name in a panic-stricken voice. 

He let out a deep breath. She was okay, then. He closed his fingers around hers. 

The final flat was lifted off, and Ms. Bedinger crouched down by his head. She spoke in a worried tone. "Michael? Don't move. You've hit your head." 

"'S okay. Got the wind knocked out of me, that's all," he lied. Maria clutched his hand even more tightly, as if she knew he wasn't telling the truth. Pulling his hand roughly from her grasp, he rolled onto his back and squinted against the glare of the stage lights. "Just gimme a minute." 

Feet pounded down the aisle, and a voice called out, "No one's there. The school nurse already left." 

Michael could've sworn he heard the drama teacher mutter, "Damn," under her breath. Then again, it could've been his ears ringing. "We'll call the paramedics," Ms. Bedinger decided. 

No. No doctors. They'd been lucky when Max had the car accident; they couldn't chance it again. "I'm okay," he said groggily, pushing himself to a sitting position before looking at the teacher. His vision swam, and he was pretty sure there were two of her. He ignored it, and managed a very unaccustomed, rather crooked grin. "I've got a hard head. I'm fine." 

The teacher disagreed. "You hit your head; you could have a concussion. And in the absence of a parent, I'm required to call for help." 

Panic rose in him. He had to get out of there, before they found out, before he was caught..."No doctors!" 

"I'm afraid it's not your decision, Michael," Ms. Bedinger told him. 

Alex's voice, firm and unwavering, broke through Michael's panic. "Actually, it is. He's an emancipated minor. He has the legal right to make his own medical decisions." What do you know. Whitman to the rescue. Seeing right to the problem and dealing with it. Covering for him. Again. 

Ms. Bedinger protested again, but Michael put paid to the discussion. Brushing aside all the helping hands, he rose to his feet and stood there, willing himself not to sway. Or pass out. He couldn't allow himself to show any weakness. "I'm fine," he said again. 

"But your head--" 

He put his hand up to it and immediately regretted it. Gritting his teeth, he waited for the world to stop spinning. "I'll go put some ice on it or something. I'll be fine." He took a few steps towards the side of the stage. A small part of him took the time to be amazed at his steadiness. The rest of him--which hopefully wasn't showing--fought the urge to collapse. 

"I can't let you leave without making sure you're okay," Ms. Bedinger insisted. 

"What if he agrees to see his personal physician?" Alex spoke again. "Since you can't legally keep him here," he reminded the teacher. 

"Michael?" Ms. Bedinger asked. "Do you promise you'll go straight to your doctor's?" 

He started to nod but decided that wasn't a very good idea either. "Yeah," he said. 

She still looked uncertain, and he made up her mind for her. Ignoring her protests, he headed towards the side door. He'd just take off. What was she gonna do? Tie him up? 

"Michael!" Maria cried out. He didn't turn around. 

Unexpectedly, Kyle Valenti spoke. "Don't worry, I'll make sure he gets there," he said, heading after Michael, who was still moving doggedly towards freedom. 

Michael vaguely heard Ms. Bedinger calling, "I expect to hear from you when you get to the doctor's!" before the door swung shut behind him. He put out a hand to brace himself against the wall. The door swung back open and he turned his head reflexively. Ouch. Too fast. 

Beside him, Kyle said, "I'll get my car and meet you at the back door," and took off running down the hall. Trying not to jar his head, Michael slowly made it to the door in question. Sure enough, there was Kyle's red convertible. Wordlessly, the alien got in, pulled the door shut and fastened his seatbelt before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

"So I take it we're not going to a doctor," Kyle said as he pulled away from the curb. 

"Can't. Our blood is different," Michael said. 

"Oh." Kyle seemed to muse about that for a moment. "Where then?" 

"My place." Michael gave him the address and then was silent. 

"Are you really okay?" asked Kyle. 

Michael opened his eyes and carefully turned his head in Kyle's direction. "Not unless there's really two of you." 

"I could call my dad." 

"No." His eyes closed again. 

The obvious answer hit Kyle. "Max! He healed me. We'll call Max." 

"You don't need to," Michael told him. 

"Why? Does he already know? Do you guys read minds or something?" Kyle asked nervously. 

"No, we don't read minds or something," Michael echoed in a sarcastic voice. "Maria's already called him." 

"How do you know that?" asked Kyle. 

Michael's voice was low. "I know Maria." He lapsed back into silence. 

A short while later, Kyle pulled up to the curb in front of Michael's apartment building. The alien braced himself, and managed to get out of the car. He was surprised to see Kyle hop out as well. "Where are you going?" 

"I'm going to make sure you manage to get in all right," said the athlete. 

"I don't need your help." 

"Look Guerin, you're barely standing upright." 

"You can't leave your car there. It's a no parking zone." 

"So I'll get my dad to fix the ticket." 

Michael opened his mouth to protest again, and then decided he wasn't in any shape to care, much less to argue about it. "Fine," he said ungraciously, and led the way into the apartment building. He reeled a little going up the steps, but managed to make it to the top under his own steam. Arriving at his apartment, he pulled out his key and held it out to Kyle. "You do it. Can't see the lock clearly," he mumbled, then stumbled over and collapsed on the couch once the door was open. Kyle followed and stood over him, looking down in concern. 

"If you've got a concussion, you're not supposed to fall asleep," the football player instructed. 

Michael opened one eye. "You have them often?" he asked. 

"No. I just remember it from first aid. You were in the class too," Kyle pointed out. 

Michael was about to make a rather snide remark when the door burst open on its hinges and Isabel rushed in, Max on her heels. Michael didn't have to look to know who it was. He smirked. "Told you," he said to Kyle, and then the two aliens were upon him. 

"Oh my god, Michael!" Isabel cried out. "Are you all right?" 

"I just had my head caved in, Izzy. Do I look all right?" he shot back. 

"Well, it can't be too bad, if you're going to be your usual charming self," she responded. 

He opened his eyes and looked up at her double image. "Why don't the two of you go away and let Max take a look?" 

"The two of us?" she said in confusion. 

"He took a good crack to the head. He's seeing double," Kyle explained. 

Max knelt beside the couch, frowning. "Hold still, Michael." 

"Not really planning to move anytime soon, Maxwell," Michael said evenly. Max placed his hand gently on the side of Michael's head and began the healing process. Michael kept his eyes open. The moment his double vision pulled together into a single image, he pushed Max's hand away. "Thanks," he told the other alien. 

"But I'm not done yet," Max protested. 

"Yes, you are." 

Max's brow wrinkled. "Michael, what's this about? If you don't want me to heal you, Isabel can--" Max was interrupted. 

"What the hell's the matter with you? I'm the one who got knocked out, so why am I the only one thinking straight?" barked Michael. He cautiously sat up, and then relaxed as his dizziness didn't return. "Look, Max, a whole bunch of people saw those flats land on me. It's gonna look pretty suspicious if I don't have so much as a scratch." 

Isabel shouldered Max aside and took Michael's chin in her hand. "You're going to have a black eye," she told him, studying the abrasions on his temple. 

"Won't be the first one." He swatted her hand gently away. 

She sat on the couch next to him. "So what happened? All Maria said was that the set fell on you and you were hurt, and we should get over here." 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah?" Her voice rose. 

"Yeah, that's what happened." He started to run a hand through his hair, but thought better of it. 

"That's not the whole story," put in Kyle. "Man, I've never seen anyone move that fast! You play basketball, Guerin? We could use you on the team." 

"Will someone please tell me what happened?" yelled Isabel. 

Michael shrugged. "I saw the flats going down, and she was in the way. So I pushed her out of the way." 

"And she's okay?" 

"Of course she's okay. Do you think I'd let anything happen to her?" he asked crossly. 

"Well, not on purpose, of course," Isabel admitted. "But this didn't sound like the--" She cut off, looking at Kyle. "I mean, it was an accident, wasn't it?" 

"Yeah. A couple of the guys were goofing around and pushed me into the flats. I knocked them over," explained Kyle. "It was an accident. We didn't mean for it to happen." 

"And she's fine," Max stated. 

Michael leaned forward, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "Yeah. Why? Did she say she wasn't, when she called you?" 

"Wait a minute," Kyle broke in. "I'm confused here. When who called you?" 

"Maria," Max answered shortly. 

"Why wouldn't she be fine?" 

Michael looked at him for a moment before dropping his eyes to the floor. "I pushed her kind of hard," he admitted. 

Kyle shook his head. "Wait--you think it was Maria who you pushed out of the way? She was on the other side of the stage. The girl you saved was Melanie." 

Michael blinked. Melanie? He'd risked exposure for the girl who'd been threatening Maria? His head began to pound. 

Isabel was incredulous. "All this time, and you can't tell Maria from another girl? She is not going to be pleased to hear that, Michael." 

Michael shook his head, racking his brain to remember exactly what had happened. He'd been watching those guys kidding Valenti, and then the flats had been falling, and he'd caught one brief glimpse of blonde hair...He'd just assumed it was her. He didn't consider that it could've been someone else. He'd just reacted. He spoke testily. "What did you want me to do, Izzy? Ask the set politely to stop falling so I could check out who it was? There wasn't time." 

"No matter who it was, or who he thought it was, it was a pretty damn nervy thing to do," Kyle pointed out. "He came out of it fine, thanks to Max. But who knows what those flats would have done to someone more fragile?" 

"You mean someone less hard-headed," grumbled Isabel, but she put her arms around Michael and hugged him. "I'm glad you're okay," she added. 

Michael pushed her arms away, embarrassed at her display of affection. "Cut it out, Iz." 

"I will if you lie down for a while. Your head is probably going to start aching," she said. 

"Start?" he said wryly, then grew a little more sarcastic. "Fine, I'll lie down. I'll rest. Thank you all for coming. Have a swell trip back home." 

"You have to call Ms. Bedinger," Kyle reminded him. 

Michael pounced on the first excuse he could think of. "Don't have the phone number." 

"I told her you'd call her." 

"Yeah, well, you also told her you'd get me to the doctor, and we all know you didn't do that either. Get over it." 

Isabel seized the opportunity. "They're still at rehearsal, aren't they? Call on Maria's cell phone." 

Michael's brow furrowed. "No." 

"I swear, Michael, you are going to drive me insane! Just talk to the girl already." 

Max and Michael spoke at the same time. 

"Let him be, Isabel." 

"You know I can't." 

"Look," said Kyle, "if you won't call, I will." He headed over to the phone. "So who's got Maria's phone number?" 

Max and Isabel looked directly at Michael. He rolled his eyes but recited the number. Kyle looked at him curiously as he dialed. "Eidetic memory," Michael said gruffly. Kyle looked doubtfully at him until the call was answered. He didn't even have a chance to say hello before Maria started asking frantic questions. 

"No, it's Kyle," the football player said into the phone. "He's fine. Yeah, Max fixed him up." He listened for a moment. "Hold on," he said, then held the phone out to Michael, who folded his arms across his chest and refused to take it. "Uh, Maria? Actually, he's still got a bit of a headache, so he's lying down right now. He can't talk." 

She must have expressed some agitation, because he continued, "Calm down, DeLuca. I told you he's fine. Now put Ms. Bedinger on, will you? Ms. Bedinger? Kyle Valenti. Yeah, he got patched up. There's nothing wrong, no concussion or anything. He'll probably have a black eye, though. He's just supposed to get some rest and he'll be fine. Yeah. Yeah, I'll tell him." 

He hung up the phone and turned to Michael. "Ms. Bedinger says she's glad you're okay. And Maria was a little pissed that you didn't want to talk to her." 

Michael shrugged. "She'll get over it." 

"If you say so." Kyle hesitated. "Look, Guerin," he said finally, "I'm sorry about this whole thing. We shouldn't have been horsing around backstage, and you shouldn't have gotten hurt." 

"Considering the three of us got you shot, I wouldn't worry about it too much, Valenti," Michael said brusquely. "Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna crash for a while. I'll see you guys in school tomorrow." 

"All right. See you," said Kyle. With a nod to Isabel and Max, he was gone. 

"Do you need anything, Michael?" Isabel asked anxiously. "Do you want us to stay for a while?" 

Michael looked over at his best friend. "I'm begging you, Maxwell. Get her out of here before she goes all Florence Nightingale on me, okay?" 

Max smiled. "You got it. Come on, Izzy." He grabbed her arm and pulled her, protesting, out of the apartment. The door closed behind them and Michael heard the click of the lock as Max used his powers to lock it behind them. 

Letting out a deep breath, Michael stretched out on the couch. He wasn't dizzy any more, but his head was still pounding. And all for Melanie. He couldn't get over the fact that it hadn't been Maria. It should have been Maria he'd saved. 

Michael kicked himself mentally. What the hell was he thinking? Of course he was glad it wasn't Maria, that she hadn't been in danger. A sick feeling rose in the pit of his stomach. He knew why he'd wanted it. A part of him had wanted to be the hero. To be worthy in her eyes. In everyone's eyes. What kind of a sick bastard was he, to want her to be in danger, just so he could look good? Maybe he was even less human than he'd thought. 

He let his head fall back onto the couch. The important thing was that she wasn't hurt. That's what really counted. Not what anyone thought about him. Ruthlessly, he reminded himself that he didn't care what anyone thought. He could be as hard as he needed to be. He just had to put a little more effort into it, that was all. He'd work on that. But first he would shut his eyes and rest, just for a little while.  
  
  
TBC...  



	45. Masques: Chapter 45

CHAPTER 45 

Maria paced back and forth across the wings, supposedly waiting for her cue. Her mind was nowhere near the show, though. She didn't even listen to the trio singing 'Ya Never Know' with Mark. All she could think about was Michael. 

She'd almost felt her heart stop when she'd seen him dart in the path of the falling flats. There had been a particularly nasty thud as a two-by-four struck his head. She'd felt sick at the sound. And then she was on her knees, holding his limp hand, calling his name, as people had pitched in to move the wood panels off of his body. 

He hadn't even looked at her. That hurt her, almost more than anything. He could have been seriously hurt, and she didn't even get the chance to look into his eyes and see for herself that he was okay. 

Then he was standing, telling everyone he was fine. She knew better. But his panic at the thought of the paramedics was palpable. With an able assist from Alex--god bless Alex--he was out of there. 

For a moment she'd almost abandoned everything and run after him, ready to forget all the stupid constraints on her life. To forget his coldness, the rehearsal, the fact that she was grounded, wasn't supposed to talk to him...everything. Just to make sure he would be all right, and damn the consequences. Alex hadn't let her. So she'd done the next best thing; she'd called Max and Isabel. And then she'd hung up the phone and started to shake. 

Thank god Kyle had called. They'd been in the middle of a scene when her cell phone rang, and at the sound, she'd abandoned the stage without any hesitation. She'd hoped against hope it was Michael, but of course it wasn't. But Kyle assured her Michael was going to be just fine, so at least Max and Isabel had been able to help him. 

On stage, Melanie forgot her choreography again and the music ground to a halt. Maria couldn't blame her. The girl could have been badly hurt, if Michael hadn't stepped in. It was enough to shake anybody up. 

And either the incident was affecting everyone or Melanie's abstraction was contagious, because people were missing lines right and left, unable to focus on much of anything. Except for Mark, who seemed to be giving the same strong performance he gave at every rehearsal. Maria could hardly believe he could act like nothing had happened, that for him rehearsal was going on just like normal. She was furious with Ms. Bedinger too. The show must go on, wasn't that the saying? Well, this wasn't even a show. It was just a stupid rehearsal. And Ms. Bedinger couldn't even give them a few minutes to collect themselves? For the first time, Maria felt like she could actively hate this whole stupid theater thing anyway.  
  


*****

The room was silent. Amy watched as Maria, seemingly lost in gloomy thought, pushed listlessly at her dinner with a fork, separating chunks of chicken from the vegetables in her casserole. Feeling her mother's eyes on her, she looked up, a guilty expression on her face. She set her fork down. 

"Are you going to tell me what's on your mind?" Amy asked gently. Maria had hardly spoken since she'd arrived home from rehearsal, and Amy was getting worried. It was unlike her chatterbox daughter, who usually had plenty to say about everything. 

"I don't think so," Maria answered in a low voice. 

"Honey, it's obvious that something's bothering you. I know you're upset that you're on punishment, but I thought we...cleared the air last night. This is something else." 

"You don't want to hear it," Maria mumbled. 

Amy's suspicions flared up. "Why not?" 

"Because it's about Michael," the girl admitted. 

A frown crossed Amy's face. "I thought I told you not to have anything to do with him, Maria. I believe I made myself perfectly clear on that point." 

She could hear the weariness in her daughter's voice as Maria responded. "You did. And I haven't." 

"Well, then--" 

"But it's not for want of trying," Maria said hollowly. "It's his choice. He won't even look at me." 

Anger at her daughter's actions and relief at Michael's warred with sympathy in Amy's chest. Somehow, sympathy won. Anger could wait until later. Right now, Maria was hurting. She had known that boy would hurt her daughter again. Amy spoke, slowly and honestly. "Sometimes men are like that, honey. You can't count on them." She should know. 

Maria shook her head. She didn't speak loudly, but her quiet voice cut through the room, leaving sharp-edged and painful silence in its wake. "He could have died today." 

Amy froze. Died? "What?" she finally managed. 

Maria kept her eyes on her plate. "He was at rehearsal today. Working on the puppets. And they were putting out set pieces, and...and a stack of flats fell over. They almost hit Melanie Royer. And Michael..." She swallowed. "Michael got there first. He pushed her out of the way, and the flats fell on him." 

Amy felt a twinge of alarm. Whether it was due to her daughter's distressed state of mind or to the news itself, she wasn't sure. "Is he all right?" she asked evenly. 

"Kyle said they went to the doctor's, and that he's fine. But it could've been so different, Mom. He was hurt, and I couldn't even go check on him." She raised her eyes to her mother's. Her misery was evident to Amy. "He didn't even stop to think about it. He just jumped in there and saved her, no matter what it did to him. It was brave, and selfless. And this is the guy you think is such a bad influence on me?" Maria twisted her napkin. "What did you say to him, Mom?" 

An alarm went off in Amy's head. "What do you mean?" 

"Saturday morning. After you sent me to the car. What did you say to him?" Somehow Amy couldn't meet her eyes. Maria nodded. "I thought so." 

Amy began to defend herself. "I'm only doing what I think is best for--" 

Maria interrupted. "I know you are. And I know it's my fault I'm grounded. I can maybe even see why you told me I'm not supposed to see him. But, Mom..." Her voice lowered to a painful whisper. "If something had really happened to him, and he wouldn't even speak to me, to...to say goodbye, because of you...I..." She looked up, a haunted expression on her face. "Mom, I'm not sure I'd ever be able to forgive you." 

Amy's face tensed, and Maria continued, "I'm not saying that because I'm angry or upset. It's not some teenage rebellion thing, either. It's how I really feel, deep down. And it scares me." 

"Maria," her mother managed. 

"I don't know what's going to happen with Michael and me. You can keep us apart, and think this is all just some product of teenage hormones reacting to a cute guy and that what I feel for him isn't real. But eventually, you're going to realize you're wrong." 

Amy had never seen her daughter this calm. She was so self-possessed, so sure, as if her emotions weren't getting in the way of her seeing things with total clarity. With a small smile, Maria told her, "I do love you, you know, Mom," and left the room. 

Amy sat there, her mind trying to grasp the sudden maturity of her daughter. Her baby was growing up. "You're still grounded!" she called. 

Maria's voice held a rueful laugh as she called back, "I know!"  
  


*****

With a groan, Michael Guerin tried to burrow deeper into the confines of his shabby couch. He had absolutely no desire to move, his sleep-befuddled body protesting at the thought. He reached up a hand to rub drowsily at his face. The soreness as his fingers hit his eye roused him, and he blinked against the light shining through the window. Craning his neck slightly, he glanced at the clock. 8:37. 

He settled lazily back into his makeshift bed, and then it hit him. It was 8:37 and it was light out. It was morning. 

He had slept for more than fifteen hours. And not just slept, but slept deeply, peacefully, with no signs of accusing voices, disappearing corpses, or the terrifying nightmares that had plagued him for as long as he could remember. The realization was enough to bring him completely awake. 

Pushing himself to his feet, he padded into his tiny bathroom and splashed some cool water on his face before patting it dry, carefully avoiding putting too much pressure on his eye. With a grimace, he looked into the medicine cabinet mirror. Isabel had been right. The skin around his right eye was turning a lovely greenish-purplish shade, and his temple was red and abraded. Putting a hand up, he gingerly felt the side of his head. Yep, he had a lump the size of a spaceship. 

Looking again in the mirror, his eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. He could sense it in his gut. No, not wrong, precisely. Maybe different was the word. It took him a few moments to figure out what it was. He felt kind of...rested. 

He wasn't groggy, and he could feel a sense of energy pulsing through him. The bone-weariness that had been his constant companion was nowhere to be found. He felt able to do almost anything. The beginnings of a smile pulled his lips upward slightly. Here he was, looking like the loser in a bar brawl, and he felt pretty damn good. 

He took his time getting ready for school. He was already late, anyway, so why bother to rush? It wasn't like he had any pressing reason to actually want to attend class. In fact, he was pretty sure there was a quiz scheduled in his math class. Just another convincing reason not to go rushing off. 

But eventually, he walked up West Roswell High's front sidewalk and in the door. He'd managed to time it so that he arrived between classes. Heading towards his locker, he debated whether or not to check in with Max or Isabel at lunch. He probably should; they'd be worried about him. But still... 

A few guys dressed in school jackets stopped their conversation and looked over in his direction. He glanced over his shoulder, but couldn't find anything unusual for them to be staring at. And then he realized it was him. He was used to people looking over him, or through him, as if he were too unimportant or weird or scruffy to notice. And that was the way he liked it. But these jocks, who he vaguely recognized as buddies of Kyle Valenti's, were looking at him. 

And it wasn't just these guys, either. A lot of eyes were fastened on him. A group of girls started giggling nearby, and he looked up to catch them staring at him too. What the hell was going on? He did a mental check. He was wearing his standard outfit of jeans, T-shirt and jacket, and his fly was zipped, so what was the big deal? Sure, the eye, but they all had to have seen a black eye before. 

His unaccustomed good mood faltered, then rapidly shriveled away under the weight of all the interested looks. A scowl crossed his face, and he moved quickly down the hallway, his expression warning them to stop looking. 

To hell with this. He'd just hide out in the bathroom until lunch.  
  


*****

Maria bit her lip as she headed down the hall towards her science class. So far, this day had royally sucked. Her mother had been pretty much non-communicative, still seemingly shell-shocked from last night's dinner discussion; they'd had a quiz in French for which she couldn't remember any verb conjugations; and, most distressing, Michael hadn't shown up for English. 

Not that he would have talked to her or anything, but at least she would have been able to see for herself that he was okay. 

She was just about to round the corner when she felt it--he was nearby. She stopped in her tracks and was almost plowed over by the guy behind her. "Sorry," she muttered, but all her attention was focused on the crowd around her. Where was he? She looked wildly around until a familiar figure came into view. Relaxing, she let out the breath she'd been holding. And then he turned to look suspiciously at a group of giggling girls, and she forgot to breathe. 

Kyle had lied. 

Michael wasn't okay. The side of his face was red and bruised-looking, and he was sporting a shiner that rivaled the one Terri had given her. Only his wasn't going to wipe off with a little cold cream and water. 

She saw him hunch his shoulders forward, scowling at the students around him before moving quickly down the hall. And then his eyes accidentally met hers. Met and held. She could almost swear that Michael--selfless, wounded, stubborn Michael--looked ashamed. And then he tore his eyes away and turned around, stalking away from her. 

With a frustrated growl, she collected herself and headed after him. It was about time to give him a piece of her mind to go with the piece of her heart he'd already had for so long. She didn't get very far, though, because as he neared the end of the hall, he swerved into the men's room. Maria hesitated for a moment. Just how badly did she want to see him? She shook her head. Stupid question. Taking a deep breath, she marched up to the bathroom door. Her hand reached out and she was about to push it open... 

...only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder. 

"Whoa there, DeLuca," said Kyle. "I know you're easily confused and all, but that's the men's room. The girls' bathroom is down the hall." 

In an instant the petite blonde had the star athlete backed up against a bank of lockers, a threatening finger poking him in the chest. "You lied to me!" she seethed. 

"Calm down, Maria," Kyle protested. "What are you talking about?" 

"Michael! You said he was fine. Well, I just saw him, and do you know what?" She punctuated each word with her finger. "He...is...not...fine!" 

Grabbing her hand, Kyle looked around the emptying hallway, then pulled her into a nearby stairwell. "He is fine, Maria. I promise you," he said in a low tone, not wanting to be overheard. 

"But his head...his eye..." she protested. "Why didn't Max heal him?" She began to pace back and forth. 

"Guerin wouldn't let him," Kyle said. 

"What?" Maria exclaimed. "The stubborn, idiotic, selfish fool! When I get my hands on him, a black eye is going to be the least of his problems!" 

Kyle laughed, and she turned angrily towards him. He put his hands up to ward her off. "Sorry, but that's ridiculous. You're mad enough that he's still hurt that you're going to hurt him a little more?" 

Maria sank down onto the floor and buried her face in her hands. 

With a sigh, Kyle looked down at her. "He couldn't let Max heal him all the way. Too many people saw the set fall on him," he explained. "He was just being smart about things, thinking ahead. You have to give him credit for that. And besides, it's not even that bad. I've gotten worse on the football field. He'll recover." 

"You're sure?" she asked hesitantly, looking up at him. 

"I'm sure," the athlete told her. "So, you want to explain why you went psycho at the idea of him being hurt?" he asked, a quizzical expression on his face. 

Her answer was worthy of Michael himself. "No." 

"Uh-huh." She flushed, but accepted the hand he held out and let him pull her to her feet. "So can I trust you not to invade the men's room now?" 

She flushed again. "Yeah. I just...I have to get to class," she said hurriedly. She took a few steps and then turned. "Kyle?" 

"Yes?" 

"You'll probably never hear this from Michael, so...thank you for helping yesterday."  
  


*****

The bell rang, and Michael swung himself down from his perch on the bathroom counter. Time to check in with Max and Isabel and then clear out before Maria showed up at lunch. Wouldn't be so bad. He'd probably been imagining the stares and whispers earlier. And even if he hadn't, he didn't really care anyway. He just preferred to keep a low profile, that's all. It was safer. He took a breath and then headed into the hallway. 

Putting on indifference like a cloak, Michael moved rapidly towards the cafeteria, ignoring all the eyes that still fastened on him. He breathed a mental sigh of relief as he spotted a tall blonde moving towards a table in the corner. Quickly changing directions, he joined her and carefully took a seat with his back to the room. "Hey." 

Isabel studied him carefully before nodding. "Nice eye," she said. Michael shrugged it off. Her brown eyes softened. "How are you really, Michael?" she asked. 

He met her eyes clearly. "Fine. Looks worse than it feels." 

Isabel gave him a warm smile. "Good." She opened her bag and pulled out a container of yogurt. "I kind of expected to see you earlier today. I was worried about you." 

His reply was matter-of-fact. "I overslept." 

She looked at him in astonishment. "Really?" 

"Yeah. I fell asleep after you left, and didn't wake up until morning." 

"Really?" she asked again in excitement. He nodded. "That's wonderful, Michael!" she crowed. 

A voice came from behind him. "What's wonderful?" 

"Michael," Isabel told her brother, her eyes sparkling. "He slept all night." 

Max looked at his friend, who shrugged. "No big deal. It's not like I cured cancer or anything, Maxwell." 

"No, it's great, Michael," Max replied with a smile. "You joining us for lunch today?" 

Michael shook his head. "No, just checking in. I've got stuff to do." 

"Like what?" Isabel asked dryly. 

"Stuff." 

"You just want to avoid Maria, that's all," she accused. 

He looked at her. "You know, I think I liked the other Isabel better, the one from a couple of minutes ago who wasn't on my case." 

She didn't rise to the bait. "Look, Michael, just stay and talk to us for a few minutes, all right? When I see Maria, I'll give you enough warning so you can run away." 

He glared at her, but didn't leave. The three of them sat in a reasonably comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Alex Whitman strolled over to the table and sat down. He greeted the Evans siblings, then turned to Michael. "So how does it feel to be a celebrity?" he asked nonchalantly. 

"What?" 

"Your little rescue attempt yesterday is the talk of the entire school. I haven't heard this much buzz since Coach Allen caught Vicky Delaney under the bleachers with Brad Phillips last year," Alex said with a grin. He caught the uneasy glance Michael shot at the others. "What? What's wrong?" 

"I don't like it," Michael muttered. "We don't need any attention drawn to us." 

"But this isn't Czechoslovakian-based attention," Alex pointed out. "No one has any way of knowing that you're different, except the people who already knew about you guys anyway. This isn't a bad thing, Michael. You may have saved Melanie's life." 

Michael abruptly pushed back his chair and left. A puzzled Alex looked after him. "Okay, what did I say?" 

Isabel, who'd been watching Michael storm out of the cafeteria, turned to Alex. "He thought it was Maria," she said simply. 

"What?" 

"He thought it was Maria who was in danger. He's furious at himself for risking being found out for someone who...who is not Maria," she finished lamely. 

Alex understood what she meant. "Does Maria know?" 

"I don't think so. But she hasn't talked about it much, not to us," Max answered. 

Alex looked over to where Liz and Maria were approaching. "Well, maybe now's the time to tell her."  
  


*****

Approaching his History classroom with some dread, Michael debated cutting another class. This whole day had him edgy. People who he didn't even know had been coming up to him, trying to start conversations. In fact, he wasn't positive, but he kind of thought that one girl had actually tried to flirt with him. It all made him extremely uneasy. No, more than uneasy--it made him feel trapped. This sudden in-school notoriety sucked. Sucked buckets. In defense, he'd clammed up even tighter than normal. 

At least with Maria around, he'd be in the familiar territory of having her blabbing at him. So maybe he could hack the class after all. He hesitated in the doorway, undecided, until a small hand on the center of his back pushed him gently into the classroom. He turned around with a jerk. It was, of course, Maria. 

She searched his face for a moment, her eyes lingering on his bruises. Then she gave him a little smile and headed for her desk, saying nothing, before he could even think about turning away himself. 

He knew she was all right, that it hadn't been her in danger, and yet it was still a relief to actually see her. Even if she weren't standing over him, yakking away like she had every other time she'd seen him since Saturday morning. No, she was sitting at her desk, quietly pulling out her notebook and preparing for class. He wasn't getting angry vibes off her any more. He was getting...well, he didn't know what he was getting. But it wasn't what he expected, and he didn't like it. 

It was almost a relief when the classroom door opened part way into the class period and Vice Principal Sutter entered. He spoke quietly to Mrs. Lyons, whose eyes flashed towards Michael. She nodded. "Michael, come with me, please," the school administrator told the alien. For the umpteenth time that day, all eyes fixed on Michael as he grabbed his notebook and pen and followed wordlessly in Mr. Sutter's wake. 

Shit. What had he done now? The last time he'd been pulled out of class like this, Hank had disappeared, and Valenti had pulled him in for questioning. The Sheriff couldn't be after him this time; he was on their side now. And besides, Michael hadn't done anything. So what the hell was going on? 

He didn't lose any of his tension as Mr. Sutter led him into the Principal's office and pointed him towards a chair. Okay, no cops. So this had to be school related. His mind flashed to the classes he'd skipped that morning. Had he pushed his lack of attendance just a little too far? 

"Hello Michael," said Principal Bruner as she entered the office. Ms. Bedinger was right behind her. He eyed them warily. "I'm sorry to pull you out of class, but I think we need to have a little talk about what happened yesterday, don't you?"  
  


*****

The halls teemed with students heading to their after-school activities by the time Michael was released from the principal's office. He'd gotten a lecture on listening to teachers' instructions and having more concern for his physical safety, and had to sign a copy of the school's incident report. He himself hadn't contributed much more than a few grunts to the conversation. He'd just sat there, arms folded, letting the sound of the principal's voice wash over him without sinking in. 

And now he was free. He decided he had time to check with Max or Isabel on the status of the Maria-and-Melanie watch before he had to head to work. Probably the best place to wait would be by the Jeep in the parking lot. He headed in that direction, uncomfortably aware that he'd have to pass by the auditorium on his way. 

And his concerns weren't unfounded, because he didn't make it past the auditorium doors. A hand latched onto his arm and pulled him to a halt. It could've been worse, though. It could've been Maria. But it wasn't. 

"Michael!" cried Melanie. "I am so glad to finally see you. I wanted to thank you, you know, for yesterday. You saved my life. So thank you." 

Michael nodded absently, his eyes scanning the hallway for a different blonde as Melanie continued talking. He didn't see Maria, and glanced back down to find Melanie looking at him expectantly. She'd evidently asked him something. 

"What?" he said, not caring if she realized he hadn't been listening. 

"I asked how your eye was," she repeated. 

"Fine," he ground out. 

"I'm really sorry you got hurt trying to help me," she said honestly. "I wish there was a way I could repay you." 

His eyes flashed to hers, then narrowed. "Maybe there is." 

Melanie looked nervously up at his cold face, caught under the intense glare of his eyes. "H..how?" 

He folded his arms across his chest and stood there adamantly. "You can start by explaining why you've been leaving threatening messages for Maria DeLuca."  
  
  
TBC...  



	46. Masques: Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46 

"Wh..what?" stammered Melanie. 

"The notes," Michael said impatiently. "The ones you left in her locker, on her car, at work." 

"I don't know what you're talking about," she protested. 

He glared down at her, and she quailed, taking a quick step backward. "Alex," he barked, seeing the bass player approaching down the hall, "Go find Maria. Get the notes from her and bring them here." 

"What's going on?" Alex asked. 

"Just do it!" Michael snapped, not tearing his gaze from the cowering girl in front of him. Alex took one look at the expression on Michael's face and bolted for the auditorium doors. 

Once inside, he rushed up to Maria, who was sitting in the house, reviewing her script. "I need the notes," he said without any preliminaries. 

"Huh?" she said, caught off guard. 

"The notes, the ones you found. I need them!" Alex hissed. She looked at him, then began to rummage in her bag for them. "What's going on, Alex?" 

"Michael's cornered Melanie in the hallway. I think he's confronting her about them," he blurted as he snatched the papers from her. 

"Oh my god." She dropped her bag and ran after Alex. She found him in the hallway, handing the notes to Michael, who was towering over Melanie. 

"I'm talking about these," the alien bit out. "Look familiar?" 

Melanie took them with trembling hands. Unfolding them, she read each one. She hesitated, then responded, "No. I haven't seen them before." She held the notes out to him. 

For a moment, Maria thought Michael was going to lose it. She put a restraining hand on his arm. He threw it off and she stepped back, hurt. Alex said his name in warning. The alien closed his eyes and held perfectly still for a moment, struggling to regain control of his rage. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and spoke more calmly. "You didn't write them?" 

Melanie shook her head, wide-eyed. "No." 

He studied her expression for a moment, weighing her sincerity. Then his hand shot out and grabbed her right wrist, pulling it towards him. She held still, confused, as he studied her hand as if he were trying to fix it in his memory. Then he let go just as suddenly. Reaching out slowly, he gently took the papers from her other hand. Turning to Alex, he spoke in a dull tone. "It's not her. Tell the others." And then he strode down the hallway towards the parking lot. 

Melanie watched him go, eyes as big as saucers. Finally, she whispered, "What was that all about?"  
  


*****

"...so it looks like we're back to scratch," Michael said testily into the phone. "We still have no clue who's behind the notes." 

On the other end, Max reminded him, "We still have your vision to go by." 

"It's not enough, Maxwell! She could be in danger. I wasn't so worried when we thought it was Melanie, but now..." His voice trailed off. "We have to figure this out." 

"I know. We will," Max assured him. 

Michael ran his free hand through his hair. "But I don't know how, or even what to do next. I thought about it the whole time I was at work, and I just can't get my brain wrapped around it. I--" 

A crisp knock on the door cut him off in mid-sentence. "Hold on, Max. Someone's here." Setting the phone down, he padded to the door and swung it open. "What do you wa--" he demanded, only to stop mid-phrase when he saw who was standing outside. It was the last person he would have expected. Mrs. DeLuca. 

He stood looking at her in confusion, no words coming to him. She raised her eyebrows and then pushed past him into his apartment. Staying by the door as she looked around, he tried to see the shabby room through her eyes. He wasn't impressed by it. 

Mrs. DeLuca quickly took in the small details, like the tie-dyed cloth Isabel had draped over the window as a curtain and the Metallica posters on the walls, that attempted to make it a little more homey. It didn't quite work. She had to admit, though, especially for a teenage boy living on his own, it was fairly neat. She gave a noncommittal "Hmmm." 

When she had looked her fill, she turned back to Michael, who was still standing wordlessly in front of the open apartment door. She stepped nearer to him and he braced himself for the confrontation he knew was coming. Instead, she reached out and took his chin in one hand, tilting his face to the side as she clinically studied his bruises just as carefully as she had studied his apartment. She spoke for the first time. Her voice was calm. "You should try some witch hazel on that." He shied back away from her without responding. 

He couldn't read her expression. It wasn't one he was familiar with. "I still don't want you near Maria," she said firmly. He nodded, and she continued, "But I pay my debts." And with that, she held out the box she was holding in her other hand towards him. He looked at it but didn't move to take it. "It won't bite. That's your job," she said, thrusting the box into his hands. Then she coolly left his apartment. 

He looked down at it, unsure of what had just happened. After a few moments, he gingerly opened the box and stood staring down at its contents. Then he headed back to the phone. "Max? You still there?" 

"Yeah." 

Michael hesitated. "Something weird just happened." He could hear the rustle as Max sat up. 

"What?" Max asked, concern evident in his voice. 

"Mrs. DeLuca just showed up at my door. She looked around, handed me a pie, and left." 

"And?" prompted Max, feeling that there was more to it than that. 

"Why would she do that?" said Michael, almost to himself. "She hates me, so why bring me food? Why bother seeing where I live? Why...why check out my eye and act like...like...It was weird, that's all," he finished abruptly. 

"What did she say, Michael?" Max asked. 

"Same old speech about staying away from Maria, but that she pays her debts." A thought struck him. "You don't think she's trying to poison me, do you?" 

Max burst into laughter. "No, Michael. It's for helping with her car, remember? She dropped a blackberry pie off for me at the UFO Museum this afternoon. It's her way of saying thank you." 

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Max waited patiently, and finally Michael said, "I don't get it, though." 

"What?" 

"Why bother with it? She got what she wanted; I'm staying away from Maria. Mrs. DeLuca never had to see me again. It would've been easier to forget about me. I would've." 

"Sometimes it's better to confront things, Michael," Max said quietly. "You can't always run away and pretend things don't exist. Looks like Mrs. DeLuca knows that." Michael was silent, absorbing this thought. "Don't worry too much about it. Go have some pie. Enjoy it," Max advised. "What kind is it, anyway?" 

"I don't know," Michael admitted. "I haven't had any yet. It looks like chocolate, though. Maybe chocolate cream." 

"Well, have a piece and try to stop worrying. We'll all put out heads together and try to come up with a plan tomorrow, okay?" 

"Yeah." 

"You're not alone in this, you know," Max reminded him. 

"I know." 

"See you tomorrow then." 

"Yeah." Michael hung up the phone and then picked up the pie and carried it over to the counter. Rummaging in a drawer for a fork, he thought about Mrs. DeLuca, still trying to grasp the reason for her visit. She confused him almost as much as her daughter did. The woman hated him; Michael was sure of that. She blamed him for Maria's lying to her, for her staying out all night, and, worst, for sleeping with her daughter...Hell, she probably blamed him for rioting, terrorism and the hole in the ozone layer too. 

But she had brought him a pie, and she had held his face as she studied it. Michael wasn't used to being touched like that. Not like...like a mother might have, if he'd had one. Gentle and stern at the same time. 

Maria was lucky. He wasn't sure she realized just how lucky she was. And he was not going to do anything to come between this girl and her mother. Their relationship--it was too important. He would just settle for...pie. 

He sat down at the counter and pulled the box towards him, lifting the foil pie pan out. It was cool, like it had been in the refrigerator. Not bothering with a plate, he scooped out a forkful and put it in his mouth. The flavors of cream cheese, pie crust and nuts melded with the chocolate taste on his tongue. It wasn't a chocolate cream pie, not like any he'd had before. They usually had whipped cream or meringue on top. This was different, but he knew what it was. He'd never had it before, but he'd heard of it. It was ironic. Mrs. DeLuca could have no idea how ironic it was. Setting down his fork, he headed for the kitchen and a bottle of Tabasco sauce to pour onto his homemade Mississippi Mud Pie.  
  


*****

"This is absolutely ridiculous!" Maria burst out, dropping her half-eaten sandwich onto her napkin. "It is impossible to have a planning meeting without all of us here. You're just going to end up going over all of this again with Michael, anyway, so why can't he save you some time and just show up in the first place? Would it kill him to spend five minutes in my presence?" 

"It's not that, and you know it," Isabel put in blandly. "Lord knows I think he's being an idiot too, but he has his reasons for what he's doing, and they're important to him." 

"I can't believe he let my mother scare him off," Maria groused. "I mean, I'm the one who's in trouble here. She can't do anything to him. She gets queasy when she sees blood." 

"It's not just about your mother, Maria," Max reminded her. "There's a lot more going on in his head than that." 

"I know that, I do. But can't we at least be civil?" She shook her head, sighing. "No, I guess we can't, and I'm just going to have to live with it. For now, anyway." She looked around at her four companions, two human and two alien. "So where do we go from here? I mean, if Melanie isn't my stalker?" 

"It still seems to me that it's got to be someone innocuous," volunteered Liz. "I mean as far as Czechoslovakian issues are concerned. There's no proof that it isn't someone who just hates you." 

"Gee, thanks, Liz. Nice to know you think I'm so popular," Maria chided her. 

"Never fear!" Alex put in dramatically. "Even when the rest of the world turns against you, you'll still have us." 

"Well, there's real cause for rejoicing right there," said Maria, straight-faced. Liz wadded up her napkin and flung it at her friend. Maria ducked and laughed, and the rest joined in. 

"Feeding time at Losers-R-Us?" asked Pamela Harris snidely as she came up behind Maria. 

"Speaking of someone who hates me," Maria muttered under her breath. But the weeks of being the brunt of this girl's sniping had finally come to a head. "Okay, Pamela, you know what? I've had enough from you. If you have a problem with me, then have the guts to tell me about it, because I'm not putting up with your little comments any more," Maria challenged, a dangerous glint in her eye. 

"Oooh, you have me so scared," Pamela mocked. Liz and Alex immediately knew the girl had just made a big mistake. Maria was already enough on edge, what with being grounded, Michael avoiding her, Michael being hurt, Michael avoiding her, the final weeks of play rehearsal, and, of course, Michael avoiding her. Poor unsuspecting Pamela had no idea what she had just unleashed. 

Across the table, Isabel opened her mouth to speak up in her friend's defense. Shaking his head slightly, Alex put a restraining hand on her arm and then settled back to watch the show. 

"So what's the bug up your butt, Pamela?" Maria asked in a deceptively calm voice. "Bad hair day, flunked exam, the words in the National Enquirer too big for you, what?" 

The brunette bristled. "You think you're so much better than everyone else, don't you? Always coming in and screwing things up for everybody. Well, you're not going to get away with it this time. I'm on to you." 

"What are you talking about? I never did anything to you. You just started being a total bitch to me for no reason." 

"No reason?" Pamela hissed. "You thieving whore!" 

Maria rose slowly from her chair and stood facing the other girl. Her tone was fierce. "Would you prefer to take that back on your own, or am I going to have to knock an apology out of you?" 

"You're the one who should apologize. Stop trying to steal my boyfriend!" Pamela shouted. 

"What?" 

"God, I knew blondes were dumb, but I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you! Mark. Mark Blumenthal. Stay away from him!" 

Maria's face crinkled up in angry confusion. "What? You think I...? No. No way. It's a good thing white looks good on you, Pamela, because you're going to be wearing a straightjacket for a very long time. You are insane." 

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" the senior shouted. "Did you think I was stupid?" 

"I am so not going there, it's too easy," said Maria with a smirk. "Look, I am not after Mark. We're just in the play together; it's acting. I don't even like him all that much. And besides, I'm kind of involved with someone else." 

"Stop lying about it," scoffed Pamela. "Involved with someone else? Now you're making up pitiful stories to try and cover up what you've done. So who are you going to use as your pretend boyfriend, Alex here? I don't think so. I know the truth, you lying bitch. I found a blonde hair on his jacket! Explain that!" 

Maria responded with sarcasm. "Gee, I don't know. Maybe he has a golden retriever? Get a grip on reality, Pamela." 

"I'll get a grip on you, you two-bit slut!" Pamela screamed. 

"Oh, for god's sake," Maria burst out. She nimbly stepped onto her chair and then up onto the table, her feet narrowly avoiding the remains of her lunch. She raised her voice. "Can I have your attention, please?" she shouted. Within seconds, the entire cafeteria was quiet and looking at her. Strangely enough, she didn't experience the slightest bit of nervousness as all eyes focused on her. 

"For the last time, I would like to officially announce that I have absolutely no, nor have I ever had any, romantic interest in Mark Blumenthal. I don't even want to try to think about him that way, it's gross." She saw Mark across the room. He didn't look particularly amused. "Sorry, Mark. You're a nice guy and all, but uh-uh. No way." Pamela began to protest, but Maria continued on like a steamroller. 

"And even if I could think about Mark that way, it wouldn't make any difference, because I am totally head over heels in love with Michael Guerin, who is a million times more worthy of being loved. Everyone got that? Are we clear now? Any questions? No? Okay." She held out a steady hand to Max, who was closest, and he wordlessly helped her down off the table. 

Maria turned to Pamela, who was looking at her in shock. "Better close your mouth, Pam, before the rest of your brains attempt to flee the gaping void that's masquerading as your mind," she said sweetly, then sat down and calmly took a bite of her sandwich. 

After a moment of silence, the cafeteria erupted in excited speech and the buzz of conversation surrounded them. The four other people at her table remained quiet, watching her. "You can go now, Pamela," she directed, not bothering to turn around. The girl walked away in high dudgeon and Maria permitted herself a small smile. Four pairs of eyes, with various expressions of shock, surprise and amusement, were still fixed on her. "What?" she asked. 

Isabel was the first to recover. "That was...unexpected." 

"Yeah, well, she ticked me off," explained Maria airily. 

Max looked at her in concern. "Maria, I hate to burst your bubble, but how do you think Michael is going to take this? You're already upset that he's staying away from you. I don't think this is going to help any." 

She blinked at him. "He isn't even here. I would have felt him." 

"Even before all this...recent stuff happened, he was a pretty private person, you know that. He doesn't like public attention. And between the school-wide gossip and the article in the Roswell Journal this morning, he's already had more than his fill of it this week. And now, with you..." Max trailed off. 

Maria's face tensed. "With me shooting my mouth off, you mean. Well, we won't tell him about it then. I mean, there's no reason he has to know, right?" she said nervously. 

Liz spoke gently. "Look around you", she said, gesturing towards the chattering students around them. "Do you really think he won't hear about it, 'Ria?" 

"Oh my god," Maria groaned. "How could I just do that? Why didn't I stop myself? What was I thinking? What?" She looked frantically around at the others. "There are four of you. Why didn't one of you stop me?" she wailed. 

Isabel shook her head. "We could hardly know you were going to announce your undying passion for my backward brother to the entire student body." 

Maria looked at her for a moment. Then she shoved her lunch out of the way and folded her arms on the table, letting her head fall down on them with a thud. When she spoke, her voice was hopeless. "I am so dead."  
  
  
TBC...  



	47. Masques: Chapter 47

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 47_

For the second afternoon in a row, Michael Guerin stalked down the hallways of West Roswell High with all eyes fixed on him. For the second afternoon in a row, Michael Guerin was in a crappy mood. 

It was different this time, though. It wasn't just staring and whispering. This time there were smirks and knowing looks, and Michael was even more uneasy than the day before. Not to mention kind of pissed off. 

He'd spent his whole life trying to fade into the woodwork, to be unseen. It had started long before he'd found Max and Isabel again, at a time when he couldn't even communicate properly with the strange people who picked him up and moved him from place to place, talking in loud voices and ignoring his fright and confusion. 

And later on, after three years of being moved around from family to family, knowing he was different, that his differences made him unwanted, he'd been sent to a new foster home. One where he learned that calling attention to himself could bring adverse--and painful--consequences. When he finally met the other two aliens again, and they'd realized just what they were, it only gave him one more reason to hide. 

So, if not bred to it, he had at least been conditioned to seek anonymity. And maybe it wasn't surprising that he was having a hard time dealing with suddenly becoming the focus of everyone's attention. 

He spun around as someone clapped him on the back, turning to catch a wide grin on the face of the guy who'd just interrupted his brooding. "Way to go, Guerin!" the guy said. Michael blinked. He had fervently hoped that enough time had passed for somebody else to capture the school's interest. Surely in forty-four hours someone had broken up with their boyfriend, or been arrested, or gotten drunk and done something incredibly and publicly stupid. Anything to draw focus away from him. The furor over his actions at Tuesday's rehearsal should have died down by now; the school's attention span was not all that long. 

But it looked like he was out of luck, because the attention he was getting wasn't dying down. If anything, it was growing. With a scowl, Michael ducked into a bathroom to hide out. At least there he'd be spared from facing half of the school. 

The two seniors who were using the bathroom as their own private smoking lounge glanced up as he entered. They evidently knew who he was, too. "So, you and DeLuca. I'm impressed," the taller of the two said. What the hell? How had this guy coupled their names together? He had been so careful to keep away from her. And even before their little blowout with Mrs. DeLuca on Saturday, they hadn't been exactly public friends; to the casual eye they probably seemed more like forced acquaintances due to Max and Liz's more public friendship. As his mind raced, he carefully kept his face impassive. 

The shorter guy--was his name Kevin?--dropped his cigarette on the floor and ground it out beneath a $125 sneaker. "Never would've thought she was such a little sparkplug. She always seemed kind of flaky to me. She a good lay, Guerin?" 

Michael froze. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What?" he said very softly. 

Kevin was too busy looking in the mirror to notice the trouble he was in. "Maria DeLuca. You're doing her, aren't you?" The words were barely out of his mouth before Michael reacted. 

To the alien, it seemed as if time had slowed down and was meandering forward at a lazy pace as he reached out, pinning the senior to the wall with one forearm across his beefy throat. To the two humans, it was only a split second, and Kevin was choking, pulling at the arm that held him firmly in place. Shaking with anger, Michael could barely hear the other guy yelling in the background. Finally the words made it through his rage. "Let go! He can't breathe!" he heard, and went completely still. Forcing himself to relax his arm, he leaned forward, ignoring the gasp as the boy began to suck in air, wheezing. 

"Never talk about her that way again. Got it?" Michael growled. Kevin nodded, his hands protectively shielding his throat, and Michael turned abruptly and strode out of the bathroom. 

He could hardly believe what he'd just done. He could've killed that guy, and not with his powers either. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd gotten so angry with Melanie yesterday, and then this...He felt like a powder keg waiting to blow. He had lost what little control he felt he had over himself, all over a few words. He felt his stomach recoil. He was no better than Hank. 

Stalking down the halls, he didn't see the looks or hear the chatter of the students around him. He didn't hear Liz calling his name, concerned at the bleak look on his face. He broke into a run and tore around the corner, suddenly needing to be away from there, to escape from...everything. Instead, he ran headlong into Kyle Valenti. 

"Watch it!" the athlete cried out as he was knocked aside, somehow managing to keep on his feet. He took a look at Michael's tense expression and made a quick decision. "Come on," he ordered. Turning, he started down the hallway towards the parking lot. Michael's need to escape overpowered his disinclination to follow. He was silent as the two got into Kyle's car and pulled out of the parking lot. "Man, you looked like you really needed to bail," commented Kyle with an inquiring look. 

Lost in his misery, Michael didn't answer. This was the second time this week he'd gotten into Valenti's car, the second time that the Sheriff's son had taken it upon himself to help him out. "Why?" he finally muttered. 

Kyle knew what he was asking. "You looked trapped," he said honestly. "Like you needed to get away from everything before you exploded. I've been there." He pulled up to a stop sign. "Where to?" 

Not feeling up to any discussion, Michael muttered, "Doesn't matter. You can just let me off here." 

"Nah. Might as well have that talk you promised me." 

Michael tensed, and briefly considered jumping from the car. But he didn't. He just sat there as Kyle pulled out onto the highway, watching the scenery blur past them in a seemingly unending motion. A few miles down the road, Kyle stopped the car at a roadside picnic area. "Neutral territory," he commented, getting out of the car. Hesitating, Michael climbed out of the convertible and moved to a nearby picnic table. Kyle unceremoniously plopped down on top of it. "So what was it?" the human asked. "Things getting too much for you?" 

Valenti had no idea. "Yeah," Michael admitted with a grunt. 

"Don't like people staring, huh?" Kyle grinned. 

Michael's response was short and to the point. "No." 

"I guess Maria should have thought about that before she pulled her little lunch-time stunt, then," Kyle added dryly. Michael looked at him with a blank expression. "You weren't in the cafeteria for lunch?" the athlete asked. Michael shook his head, and Kyle continued, "And no one's told you about Maria?" 

"No. What about her?" Michael muttered, unsuccessfully trying to look like he didn't care. 

Kyle leaned back and described the events leading up to Maria's table-top tirade earlier that afternoon. He watched with amusement as a number of expressions passed across Michael's face. He wasn't used to seeing the alien with anything but a stony, blank look. 

For his part, Michael was too busy struggling with mixed emotions to worry about what he looked like. His first reaction was sheer panic. She should have known better. They couldn't do anything to draw attention--it was dangerous, not just for him, but for Max and Isabel, and now for a whole slew of humans too. The original three, and now the two Valentis. If there really were enemy aliens on Earth, coming after them, every little bit of extra attention only added to the danger that their group would be found out. Maria wasn't stupid--she should have known better. 

Besides, whatever they'd had was over anyway. She should have known that, too, rather than run her mouth off about something that wasn't anybody else's business and didn't even exist any more. He had cut his feelings off, so why the hell couldn't she? 

Okay, so maybe he hadn't. But that didn't matter. It couldn't. Just like it couldn't matter that Maria...loved him. Even if she had told the whole school so, announced it to everyone that he...that he was worthy of being loved. Michael ran a hand across his face, barely noticing the soreness around his eye. He let his mind hold onto it for one heart-stopping moment: Maria loved him. She'd told him that before, and he guessed that the others knew, but...she'd told everyone. She'd just come out and said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was...immense. And terrifying. 

He had to admit that part of him was kind of...happy...about it, even though he couldn't let anything come of it. No matter how much he wanted to. And another part of him was...well, proud, he guessed. It was just like her to stand up for herself the way she had with that Pamela chick, all full of fire and spunk and passion and mouthiness. He liked that about her. Hell, he loved that about her. She wouldn't let him get away with any crap, and it looked like she wasn't about to let anyone else get away with it, either. Certainly not a whiny pain in the ass like Pamela, who seemed to hate her for no reason. 

Wait. Pamela hated her. 

She was a girl, and she hated Maria. She could've sent the notes. Sure, her name didn't begin with an M, but still...it was a possibility. Worth checking out. 

Looking up, Michael suddenly remembered that he was sitting with Kyle Valenti, who wanted to talk. Well, the Sheriff's son was out of luck on this one. "I need to get back," he said gruffly. 

Kyle gave him an questioning glance. "You work through everything already?" 

"What?" 

"It's obvious you've got a lot on your mind, that's all." 

"So what if I do?" 

"Nothing, nothing. So, you cool about Maria?" 

Michael's eyes narrowed. "Why do you care?" 

"Hey, back off. Just asking, that's all. I just never pictured the two of you together." 

"We're not. It...it's complicated." 

"Why, what's the problem?" Kyle asked. "She made it pretty clear how she feels. You either feel the same way she does or you don't." 

"Who are you--Dr. Laura?" Michael snapped. 

Kyle kept pressing him. "So do you?" 

Michael's voice was low as he responded, "I can't." 

"Why not?" scoffed Kyle. "Do aliens lack the emotion gene? I've seen Max look at Liz, and, much as I dislike the guy, you'll never convince me that he doesn't care about her. So why can't you?" 

Disconcerted, Michael looked at him. "You know what I am. How can you ask that?" 

Studying him, Kyle asked point blank, "Are you talking about you being an alien or something else? 'Cause I don't think Maria particularly cares about any of that." 

"Well, she should," Michael snapped. 

"You're kidding, right?" 

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Michael answered tensely. He ran a hand through his hair. "I hate this. We're done talking about it." 

"Okay," said Kyle. "Your call, sport." He sat for a moment in silence, then asked, "So can we talk about what happened last spring?" 

Michael shrugged. 

"Look, you've got to admit there was some pretty weird shit going down. My grandfather, who ruined his whole life chasing after imaginary aliens, was actually right the whole time. Add in FBI infiltration and the guy Liz dumped me for turning out not to be human...I just want to know what it all means." 

Shaking his head, Michael mocked, "You and me both." 

"So why are you here?" 

"We don't know for sure." Michael looked at him suspiciously. "Why aren't you freaking out about this? Why aren't you scared of us?" 

"I had the whole summer to deal with it. And almost dying changes the way you look at things," Kyle said simply. He paused. "My dad told me about what you did." Michael didn't respond, just looked off into the distance. "That FBI guy--Pierce--he would have killed Dad if you hadn't stopped him. I don't know what it's like to be in your shoes. I can't, I guess. I'm guessing it wasn't exactly fun. But my dad would be dead if it weren't for you. So as far as I'm concerned, I owe you. Big." 

Michael ignored this, merely commenting, "Your dad's...a good guy. I didn't know they could be." 

"Who? Humans?" 

"No, adults." 

"I know what you mean." Kyle grinned. "Come on. If we hurry, we can make sixth period."  
  


*****

For the first time, it was Maria and not Michael who dreaded the approaching History class. Not the class itself though; she dreaded his reaction when he saw her. Liz had been right; he would surely have heard about her declaration by now, even if it wasn't his habit to actually talk to people. And she didn't know what his reaction would be. 

He certainly wouldn't be happy about it. The question was, would he go back to his usual stonewall self and act like she wasn't even there, or would he look at her with anger or even hate in his eyes? It would probably be one or the other; she couldn't realistically imagine any other behavior from him. Well, she did have a horrible image in her head of him laughing cruelly at her, but she wasn't too worried about it really happening. He wouldn't hurt her that way; it wasn't his style. So she was left with flaming rage or an impenetrable stone wall. Some choice. 

Maybe she should just avoid the whole thing. Steal a page from Michael's book and cut class. Hang out in the bathroom or something. Of course, inevitably her mother would find out--she always did--and Maria would be in even more hot water. And since she wouldn't be able to avoid Michael forever, maybe she should just suck it up and get it over with. Oh well. Maybe he'd choose angry. If he yelled at her, at least he'd be speaking to her, right? 

She could do this. 

Determined now, Maria darted into the girls' bathroom to check out her makeup. At least she would go to the scaffold looking good. She smoothed out her hair and added a fresh coat of berry-flavored lip gloss, then had just enough time to breathe in some cedar oil before she was late to class. 

She raced down the hallway, only slowing to a stop as she neared the classroom. She took a deep breath, inwardly coaching herself to remain calm. She could pull this off. She was an expert at faking things, right? Clutching her bookbag firmly in one hand, she strolled nonchalantly into the classroom and took her seat as the bell rang. She didn't dare turn her head to look at Michael, not yet. Maybe he wouldn't be there anyway. Maybe he had been so angry that he'd cut class so he wouldn't have to look at her. Maybe-- 

Oh, get a grip, she told herself. As Mrs. Lyons began to lecture, Maria leaned down to root in her bookbag for a pen and then casually glanced up to the side in the direction of Michael's desk. 

Where Michael was sitting. And watching her. 

Okay, so he wasn't ignoring her, which actually made a refreshing change from the last few days. He must be gearing up for the anger option, then. She took a deep breath and lifted her eyes to his, trying to prepare herself for the daggers that would be shooting in her direction. Aliens couldn't throw out deadly lasers from their eyes, could they? She had to stop being so ridiculous--and stop watching old sci-fi movies, for that matter. Much as she would like to, she knew she couldn't pull her cedar oil out again, not in the middle of class. Even if she really, really needed to calm down. And even if there was no way Michael was going to help her calm down this time... 

Bracing herself, she finally met his eyes, and was somewhat taken aback to realize there was no anger in them. Instead there was...Actually, she didn't recognize what there was. An expression in his brown eyes that was unreadable. He raised one eyebrow slightly, and color flooded her face. He had obviously heard. Was it going to be anger or stone wall? Maria didn't realize she was holding her breath until he gave the slightest, the smallest nod. 

Oh god. He wasn't acting angry, and he had actually acknowledged her existence. If she'd been standing, her knees might have buckled in shock. She was...confused. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he had to go and act...confusing. 

The sound of Mrs. Lyons saying her name brought her back to reality. She tore her eyes from Michael's and glanced at the teacher, who was waiting impatiently for her to respond. "Sorry," Maria blurted, and attempted to pay more attention as the class went on. But inside, she was feeling strangely happy. Maybe she wasn't so dead after all.  
  


*****

The moment the bell rang, Michael, who'd been watching the second hand on the wall clock make interminably slow sweeps from minute to minute, booked. He didn't want to deal with Maria or with the way she made him feel. Or with the fact that he'd spent most of the last period watching her. He'd just shove that aside, with all the other crap he was avoiding, and deal with it later. Right now he was itching to find Pamela and ask her some very pointed questions. 

He knew where she'd be heading, too. He was well aware that Maria's play would open in a week. Pamela would be on her way to the auditorium, and he would be there waiting when she arrived. 

His only problem would be keeping away from Maria. And avoiding Melanie; he didn't need a rehash of yesterday's fiasco. 

Alex. Alex would be there. He might be able to help if Michael let him in on what was going on instead of using him as an errand boy, like he had the day before. If Michael could catch him before rehearsal started. All he had to do was get there first, enlist Alex, avoid Maria, and interrogate Pamela. All without letting his anger get the best of him like it had earlier. Hey. No problem. 

Right. 

He fidgeted anxiously with his silver rings as he lurked in the hallway between the auditorium and the band room, ignoring the ever-present stares he was getting from passing students. At least he wasn't the cause of it this time--that one could be chalked up to Maria DeLuca. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a small blonde figure that stopped abruptly at the other end of the hallway, hesitated and then walked directly towards him. He glanced over. Great. It was Melanie. Hadn't he put the fear of god into her yesterday, whether inadvertently or on purpose? Why would she approach him now? She stopped directly in front of him and looked up into his cold brown eyes. 

"I need to talk to you," she said, getting right to the point. He raised an eyebrow, but didn't give her any more encouragement than that. His eyes narrowed as she continued, "It's about the notes." 

"What about them?" he barked, his voice harsh. 

"Not now. I have to get to rehearsal. Meet me here afterwards?" she said hopefully. "Please?" 

Michael studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Fine." She nodded back and headed towards the auditorium doors. He watched her, a frown on his face. So she did know something about the notes. But it wasn't her hand he'd seen in the vision, he was sure of it. Unless his visions, like the rest of his powers, couldn't be trusted. Swallowing, he considered. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, that was for sure. So maybe he should just wait and see what Melanie had to say before he went off on Pamela. Maybe he should just keep a rein on things for once. Do something like Max would. 

With resolution, he pushed himself away from the wall he was leaning against and headed towards the doors through which Melanie had disappeared. He would just keep an eye on her--and Pamela--and Maria--during rehearsal. And then afterwards, he'd see what was what. 

He was about to push on the auditorium doors when one swung open of its own accord. Or rather of Alex's accord. The bass player stood there, startled, then greeted him. "Hey, Michael." 

"Hey." 

"What are you doing here?" The question was rude but Michael could tell the intent wasn't. 

"Came to watch rehearsal. Gotta make sure Valenti knows what to do with the puppets," he explained briefly. 

Michael didn't think Alex believed him, but the human didn't comment. Instead, he glanced nervously back into the auditorium. "Ummm...Michael, I need to talk to you." 

"Why?" Michael said without emotion. 

Shooting another glance back over his shoulder, Alex admitted, "It's about Maria." 

Michael decided to let him off the hook. "About what happened at lunch time?" 

"Yes," Alex responded in relief. He looked curiously at Michael. "Who told you about it?" 

"Valenti." 

"_Kyle_ Valenti?" 

"Yeah." 

"I didn't know you two...talked," said Alex in surprise. 

"We usually don't." 

"Uh-huh." Alex studied the alien, who avoided his eyes. "Look, about Maria--" 

Michael spoke in a low tone. "It's okay." 

"But she--" Alex protested. 

"Just forget it, okay?" 

Alex was unconvinced. "You're all right with it, then? You're not angry?" 

Michael ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. "I'm not sure what I am. But there are other things to deal with here." 

His brow wrinkled, Alex asked, "What's going on?" 

Michael debated with himself for a moment before speaking. "Can you meet me after rehearsal? There are some things I want your input on." 

"Sure," the bass player immediately agreed, then asked again, "What's up?" 

"I had an idea on the stalker thing. And Melanie wants to talk about the notes. She knows something, Alex. And I think it would be better if you were there, in case I...I just think it would be better if you were there too. That's all." 

"No problem," Alex said affably. "So, you hanging around for rehearsal then?" 

Michael shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah." 

Smiling, Alex joked, "No darting beneath falling scenery this time, okay?" 

The alien rolled his eyes, but answered him. "You got it."  
  


*****

A few hours later, Michael sat silently in the back of the auditorium, his mind on the upcoming meeting with Melanie. He was anxious to hear what she had to say, but not so anxious that he hadn't paid close attention to what was going on onstage. He was just keeping an eye on everyone. At least that was the excuse he gave himself. He had to admit that so far things seemed to be going pretty well, other than the occasional pauses when Ms. Bedinger wanted to change some detail or other. Everyone seemed to know what they were doing, even Valenti. And Maria was...good. Very good. Although he'd carefully looked away when she and Mark had kissed after one duet. There was no way he was going to watch that, no matter how good she was in her role. It hurt. 

It was almost enough to make him wish he was the one up on that stage with her, lame-ass play or no. Even though he couldn't act, and he certainly couldn't sing. But he was almost willing to try. He grunted. Jealousy was a peculiarly human thing. He had to get over it, and fast. Because this...sucked. 

Onstage, the giant plant was singing to Maria. Valenti's football cronies stood backstage, moving the levers that controlled the plant's branch-like arms as it tried to pull the girl closer so it could eat her. Kind of ironic, really. In the play an alien was hurting her; offstage the same thing happened. Not that he hurt her physically, or wanted her dead like the stage alien did, but somehow he always seemed to hurt her, even when he didn't want to. And in spite of all of that, she loved him. Again his mind reeled with the thought. He hurt her and she loved him. Face it, she was certifiable. He ran a hand over his face. _Completely_ certifiable. 

His attention was brought back to the stage as Maria started giggling madly. He couldn't see her, though. A frown crossed his brow. Where was she? Without warning the plant flew open and there she was, laughing her head off. "Sorry," she burst out between giggles. "I got stuck in here and couldn't get out." 

Valenti's voice arose from the depths of the plant puppet. "Interesting. Dennis seemed to manage it without any problems, and he's a lot bigger that you, DeLuca." 

"Well, he isn't wearing a chiffon negligee and marabou mules, either," she shot back with a grin. Michael couldn't help it. He felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards in the tiniest smile of amusement. She was just so...alive. And happy. He hadn't seen her like this since before Tess had arrived in town and the whole Destiny mess cropped up. This play thing, lame-ass as it might be, was good for her. She didn't look half bad either, he thought as he studied her in the white floaty thing that she wore as part of her costume. Kind of ethereal or something. And at the same time, definitely sexy... 

No. He wasn't going there. He couldn't afford to let his mind wallow in that thought. He had things to see to. 

He was relieved as she tried the plant escape again, more successfully this time. Mark did something or other that Michael didn't pay any attention to, there was one more big song, and then the play was over. He sat impatiently as Ms. Bedinger gave some notes and made a speech about focus or hard work or something; Michael wasn't exactly paying attention to that either. The instant rehearsal was over and Alex had his bass packed up, Michael was urging him out into the hallway to the appointed meeting place. He paced tensely as he waited for Melanie to show up and say whatever it was she had to say. And then there she was, but she wasn't alone. That prick Mark was with her.  
  
  
TBC...  



	48. Masques: Chapter 48

CHAPTER 48 

Alex didn't even have to look to know how tense Michael had become. Although the alien's face remained stoic, Alex knew him well enough by now to tell that he was not happy with Mark's presence. His hands were curved inwards, just a step away from clenched, and his chin was set stubbornly. Thankfully he didn't say anything; he just crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Melanie to speak. 

Unfortunately, the actor spoke first. "I see you brought in the cavalry," he commented with a nod in Alex's direction. "Too scared to talk to a girl by yourself, Guerin?" 

Great. Looked like Mark wasn't too happy with Michael either. But Michael didn't so much as blink in response to the senior's goading. Alex let out a mental cheer and remained where he was. The only one who reacted was Melanie, who looked up with a frown on her face. "Oh, come on, Mark. Be nice." She lifted her eyes to Michael. "Thank you for meeting me. I need to talk to you about the notes." 

Raising one eyebrow, Michael waited impatiently for her to continue. 

She hesitated. "Maria and Alex wouldn't tell me anything yesterday, but...the notes you showed me, the ones you thought I wrote...someone's been leaving them for Maria?" At Michael's brief nod, she shook her head. "I didn't lie yesterday. I hadn't seen them before. But..." She paused. "I recognized the handwriting. I think Pamela Harris wrote them. And...and it's my fault." 

"Why?" Michael ground out. 

Melanie flushed. "We were both kind of mad when Maria came out of nowhere and got the lead in Little Shop," she began. "I mean, we've worked our way up from chorus roles over the last three years, and Pamela...well, she really thought that it was her year." 

Scowling, Michael burst out, "So Maria got to be harassed and threatened all over a part in a stupid play?" 

"I told you. He just doesn't get it," Mark put in. 

"Well, why don't you explain it to me then?" challenged Michael, taking an angry step towards the actor. "Tell me how you can justify what's been done to her." 

This wasn't getting them anywhere. Alex stepped between them. "Okay, guys, let's take it down a notch and let Melanie finish, all right?" 

His mouth in a thin line, Michael resumed his former position, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. 

"It's not just the play," Melanie admitted. "See, Pamela used to go out with Mark, but they broke up over the summer. Well, he broke up with her. But since then, she's acted like they were still together, when he was really seeing..." Her voice trailed off. 

"You," said Michael bluntly. 

She looked startled, but nodded. "Yes. And I didn't want to tell her, because, well, she's my friend, and you shouldn't go poaching your friend's exes, but, well, Mark and I get along really well, and it just...happened." 

Michael studied her for a moment. "And Maria got dragged into this because..." he said leadingly. 

"Because Pamela saw Mark with another girl, but she was too far away to tell it was me, and when she told me about it, I..." 

Michael's voice was cold. "You told her it was Maria." 

"Yes," Melanie whispered. 

"And Pamela started her little hate campaign." 

"Yes. But I didn't know that until yesterday. If I had, I would have told her it was me. Honestly." Michael didn't look convinced. 

Remembering Maria's fall down the stairs, Alex spoke up. "You know Pamela the best. Would she act on any of the threats? You know, try and get revenge?" 

Melanie shook her head rapidly. "Oh, no. She talks big but she doesn't really act on things, you know?" 

Alex exchanged a look with Michael, and the alien said slowly, "So why didn't you tell me all this yesterday?" 

"Because you scared the shit out of her, you jackass!" Mark shouted. 

Melanie nodded, more calmly than her erstwhile boyfriend. "You did. You can be kind of...intimidating, you know? But then this afternoon, when I heard that you and Maria were together, it all made a lot more sense." 

"When you heard what?" Michael said softly, a hard look in his eyes. 

"When I heard about the two of you," she faltered. "Everyone's talking about it. And then I understood why you were so angry when you thought I wrote the notes." 

"We're not together." Michael ground out. 

"But--" 

Alex cut her off. "Look, this is about what happened at lunch today, isn't it? You know how the West Roswell gossip mill can get things blown out of proportion. Mark was there. He can tell you what really happened." He wasn't too happy about leaving Maria hanging up to dry, her feelings exposed, but he wasn't sure how much longer Michael was going to be able to handle this particular topic of conversation. 

Melanie just looked confused. "So you two aren't seeing each other?" she asked Michael. 

Between gritted teeth, he forced out, "No." 

"Well, maybe you should be," said Mark. 

Michael rounded on him. "What? You were the one telling me to stay away from her, all for the sake of your precious play!" Alex looked at Mark, startled. No wonder Michael disliked him. 

With a shrug, Mark explained, "Well, maybe I was wrong. She's so fixated on you, maybe your staying away would be more of a distraction than your hanging around." 

"She is not fixated!" Michael hissed. 

"Yeah, sure. Whatever," Mark drawled. "But go ahead. Get back together. It might be for the best." 

Alex winced. Not the best way to handle an angry, able-to-blow-you-up-with-his-mind alien. Of course, Mark didn't know that was who he was ordering around. One move of Michael's hand, and the actor could be toast. 

And then Michael did shoot out his right hand. Alex watched in shock; he had just been kidding about blowing Mark up. But all the alien did was grab Mark by the shirt front, pulling him closer so he could shout in his face. "I didn't stay away from her because of what you said, and I'm not listening to you now, either! I don't give a damn for your stupid play, hear me?" 

"Michael," Alex said in warning. 

The alien paid him no heed. "Maria is not someone to be manipulated in order to get a good performance out of her. She has feelings. She deserves better than that!" He shoved the senior away, releasing his shirt. Mark stumbled backward for a few steps, but finally caught his balance. 

"Mark?" Melanie whispered. "Did you really do that? Try and tell people what to do, and how to feel?" 

"Yeah, so what?" he answered, straightening his collar. "You want the play to be good, don't you?" 

She looked up at him, a crease between her eyebrows. "You know what?" she finally said. "You should go back to Pamela. I think you two deserve each other." With that, she staunchly turned her back on him. 

"Come on, Mel," he began, but was cut off by one word. 

"Go," she ordered. He stood there for a moment, not quailing under the glares from Michael and Alex. Then, with a shrug, he went. 

Alex turned and looked at the two people still standing with him in the hall. He didn't miss the fact that, even with Mark gone, Michael fairly bristled with anger. Better get rid of Melanie first, then deal with Michael. That seemed like the best option. But before he could speak, Michael turned abruptly to the girl. "Do you know Pamela's class schedule?" 

"Yes," she answered, startled. 

"What's her last class of the day?" 

"Spanish. Why?" 

Michael turned to Alex, ignoring her question. "Which staircase did Maria fall down?" 

"I'm not sure," Alex answered. "I could ask her. Or Liz or Max would know." 

Melanie interrupted. "Wait a minute. Maria fell down some stairs? And why did you need to know Pame--Oh my god. You think she had something to do with it?" she gasped. "No way. I told you, she wouldn't act on anything. The notes I can believe, but that she would...No. No way. When did it happen?" 

Michael looked to Alex for the answer. "It was a Tuesday," the teen answered. He racked his brain. "Tuesday a couple of weeks ago." 

Melanie closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. Then she crouched on the floor and started rummaging through her backpack. A moment later she triumphantly pulled out a student planner and stood. "Was this the Tuesday before Halloween?" she asked in an urgent tone, flipping through the pages of the planner. Alex nodded. 

"Then Pamela couldn't have had anything to do with Maria's fall," she said. "That day was the trip to the state capitol in Santa Fe. It was for Government class; all the seniors went. We barely got back in time for rehearsal that afternoon. We went straight from the bus the auditorium." She looked up at Michael. "Are you sure she didn't just fall?" 

Michael looked away, not answering. Seeing the tense set of the alien's shoulders, Alex went back to his original plan: get rid of Melanie and then deal with Michael. "Thanks for telling us about the notes, Melanie," he said. "We'll tell Maria about them." He hesitated, then continued, "We will need to confront Pamela, you know." 

She nodded, speaking quietly. "I know. Ummm...I think I'm going to head home now. See you at rehearsal tomorrow, Alex. Goodbye, Michael." 

Alex watched her walk down the hallway. After a moment, Michael spoke without looking in his direction. "You can tell Maria about the notes but you can't tell her about Mark," he said hoarsely. 

"What?" asked Alex, turning towards him. 

"The play is the best thing in her life right now. And she likes him. She thinks he's a friend. We can't ruin it for her by telling her how he...used her." 

Alex objected. There had been too many secrets already. "She has the right to know." 

Michael's eyes met his. "She's having a good time with it. Don't take that away from her, Alex. She deserves it." 

Alex studied him, then decided. "I won't tell her before the show closes. If you'll promise to tell her afterwards." 

Michael ran a hand across his face. "I can't. You know that!" 

"Why not?" Alex questioned reasonably. 

"I just can't, Alex. Don't make me give you a promise I know I can't keep." 

There was a pause as Alex closed his eyes before speaking. "All right. I'll tell her. And I'll wait until the play is over." 

"Good." With a shake of his head, Michael began to pace up and down the hallway. Alex watched as he struggled with whatever was going on in his head, figuring that the alien would tell him when he was ready to. Finally, Michael spoke. "Tell Maria and the others about the notes. You'll have to figure out how you want to approach Pamela." He grimaced. "I'm sure Maria will have some ideas." 

Alex looked at him in surprise. "What? You're the one who's been so gung ho on identifying the stalker, and now you're going to wash your hands of it all? I figured you'd want to approach Pamela yourself." 

"I can't, Alex! Do you have any idea how pissed off I am right now? I could barely keep a lid on things long enough not to decimate that jerk. Why do you think I wanted you here in the first place? I can't control this. Hell, I could very easily snap and take you out right now." 

Alex looked at him calmly. "You're not going to do that." 

Running both hands through his hair, Michael squeezed his eyes shut. "No, I'm not. But I could, so easily." His mouth tightened. "Just tell them, all right? I gotta...I gotta get out of here." 

Alex watched in concern as Michael stalked down the hall towards the door, barely stopping long enough to punch out a locker on his way. With a shake of his head, Alex headed back into the empty auditorium to get his bass and amp, mentally rehearsing the upcoming discussion he needed to have with the others.  
  


*****

The next day didn't go quite as planned. 

For Alex, who'd figured he'd have to keep a watchful eye on Michael, the day was a pleasant surprise. Michael wasn't exactly communicative, but he wasn't bursting with wrath either. He seemed to have gotten over the anger of the previous night. Either that, or he was controlling it by drawing inwards. Anyway, Alex didn't think he had to worry about Michael suddenly going on a rampage and taking out Mark Blumenthal. 

For Michael, who had gone to school with a renewed determination to avoid Maria, the day was, in a weird way, kind of a letdown. He could hardly avoid her when she was avoiding him first. When she didn't look at him, he could stare freely at her. When she didn't speak, he could still hear her voice in his memory, saying his name. Somehow the fact that she was making it easy on him to ignore her made it even harder instead. 

And for Maria, who was herself pretty pissed off, the day was an ordeal of waiting. Waiting until after rehearsal, when she could face off with the simpering moron known as Pamela Harris and put her straight for the last time. 

Alex had called and told her what had happened, and they'd all gathered at lunch so they could discuss the situation more fully. Well, all but Michael, of course. God forbid that he should actually be a part of their discussion. She shook her head. No, she was being too hard on him. From what Alex had said, he was going through yet another trauma--anger issues this time--and while she would be there to support him if she could, he wouldn't let her. 

So she'd done the only other thing she could think of. She'd left him alone. It seemed to be what he wanted, so she'd done it. Part of her was almost grateful to Pamela for starting the whole note thing in the first place; at least it gave Maria something to think about other than Michael Guerin. She actually kind of looked forward to the confrontation that was coming. 

Of course, that didn't work out quite as she'd expected, either. 

The main obstacle was a dark-haired woman who showed up shortly before rehearsal was over and took a seat in the house, waiting for them to finish. Noticing Pamela give a little wave to the woman, Maria sidled up to Melanie as the cast gathered for notes. "Who's that?" she whispered. 

"Pamela's mother," Melanie explained. "She came to pick her up. They're driving to T or C for her grandmother's seventieth birthday this weekend." 

"They're leaving from here?" Maria asked. Melanie nodded, and Maria let out a sigh. So much for the big confrontation. And it wasn't going to happen over the weekend either; it was going to have to wait until Monday. Glancing over at Alex she shook her head, trying to clue him in on the change in plans. She'd gotten all geared up for it, and now, nothing. Darn it, why was Liz the one with all the patience? Why couldn't it be a DeLuca family trait instead? This was going to drive her nuts, if everything else in her life didn't do it first. 

The moment Ms. Bedinger was done giving notes, Maria headed directly for the orchestra pit. "It's not going to happen today," she told Alex in a whisper. "That woman over there? It's Pamela's mother. She came to pick her up, and they're going to be gone all weekend. We're going to have to wait until Monday." 

Alex nodded in understanding. "You okay?" 

"I'll have to be, won't I?" was Maria's rejoinder. She sighed. "Oh well, let me get out of this costume and I'll come help you lug your stuff," she offered. 

Once in the room that was serving as the girl's dressing room, it didn't take her long to slip out of the negligee and nightgown and into the jeans and sweater she'd worn to school that day. She was thankful that at this point all they were working with was costumes, and not makeup and hair, or she'd be there forever trying to get all the goop off her face. She didn't say anything to the other three girls who were also changing. She was tempted for a while to give in to her impulses and confront Pamela right then and there in the dressing room, but she knew better than to start something she wouldn't have time to finish. This was between the two of them; she didn't need Mrs. Harris becoming involved. After all, she hadn't told her own mother about the notes, so why would she tell Pamela's? 

She would just have to wait for Monday, that's all, when she'd have a chance to face Pamela on her own. Actually, she was a little surprised that Michael didn't want in on the confrontation. He'd certainly been acting belligerent enough, according to Alex. But then again, also according to Alex, he was having trouble controlling his anger. So it was actually pretty smart to leave it to her. She was proud that he believed she could handle it. She knew she could, but it was nice to have Michael's support too, even if it was indirect and unspoken. 

Picking up her bag, she slung it over her shoulder so she could carry Alex's bass case, leaving him free to tote the amp. He was taking them both home rather than leaving them in the band room over the weekend. She waited for him to finish packing up, and tried to ignore Pamela's re-entrance into the house. The girl had taken longer to get ready, evidently choosing to primp for her trip. Maria gritted her teeth. All she had to do was to refrain from temptation. She needed to wait until Monday. She could do that, couldn't she? 

"You ready, honey?" she overheard Mrs. Harris ask her daughter. Maria made no special effort to avoid hearing the conversation. After all, she wasn't eavesdropping when they were speaking out loud in public with people around them, right? Not that she cared what Pamela Harris had to say, anyway. Still, she watched out of the corner of her eye and half listened to the girl as she answered her mother. Maria's ears pricked up, though, when Pamela asked her mother how she'd liked the show. 

"I didn't see much," Mrs. Harris answered. "It seems to be going well. I'm a little confused, though, about the plant puppets. They weren't what I expected. I thought the school was renting them from the theatrical supply company that your cousin Barry works for. Wasn't he able to cut them a good enough deal?" 

Maria took careful note of Pamela's reaction; the senior glanced around her nervously before responding. "I guess not. Let's go, okay?" 

After the two Harrises left, Maria turned to Alex. "Did you hear that?" she demanded. 

"Yeah, what about it?" 

"Well, didn't it seem a little odd to you that Pamela's related to the guy who was going to supply the plants? Do you think the deal really fell through, or do you think she tried to sabotage the show?" 

"Melanie told us that Pamela wasn't really big on action, just talk," Alex reminded her. 

"I know, but don't you think it's odd?" Maria repeated. "Looks like I have another question for dear old Pamela. Is it Monday yet?"  
  


*****

"This is ridiculous," Maria grumbled as she joined Liz at the counter of the Crashdown. "I mean, every time we seem to make some progress, something gets in the way." Liz looked at her sympathetically as Maria continued, "T or C, Melanie said. Pamela's spending the weekend in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico, of all places! I tell you, Liz, when she gets back she'd better tell me the truth, or I'll give her some consequences to deal with!" 

Liz couldn't help it. She burst out laughing. Maria looked at her sheepishly. "I know. I'm just blowing off some steam, that's all." 

"Yeah, that's the impression I got," Liz teased. She looked up as the front door opened and Max, Isabel and Alex entered. "So look who's come to pay a call." 

"Did you set this up, Liz?" Maria asked. 

"I did. Since you can't come to us, I thought we'd come to you. Of course, my parents are fully aware of your grounding, so if anyone asks, they just came in for a late supper." 

"You are devious, chica!" Maria said with a grin. "I never knew you had it in you." 

"Well, being friends with Czechoslovakians will do that to you. They're sitting in your section. Don't you think you should go take their order?" Liz asked, gently pushing the blonde towards the booth where the three sat. 

"Hey, guys," Maria greeted them with a smile. "Got nothing better to do with your Friday night than hang out at the old Crashdown, huh?" 

"I thought we should talk about an idea Max and I had," said Isabel, getting straight to the point. "Liz suggested the place, since you're not really mobile." 

"What's going on?" said Maria, handing them menus. 

Max pretended to peruse the menu as he spoke. "I'm assuming you've heard about Pamela Harris's alibi for the day you broke your ankle, right?" Maria nodded. "Since we ruled her out, we thought that maybe one of us could connect with you and get a vision of what really happened. See if someone really did push you, or if..." 

"If I was just being clumsy," Maria finished for him. "It could have been that. I don't know. It all happened so fast," she admitted. "So, which one of you is going to play psychic?" 

"I will," said Isabel. "I've already connected with you several times, so maybe it will make it easier." 

"And we've either got to do it here, or wait until school on Monday, since we can't see you at your place," Max put in. 

"I know. Rub it in, why don't you?" said Maria, but her smile made it very clear she was teasing. "I've got a break in a little while. We can do it then." 

"Do what?" asked Liz as she crossed over to the booth and slid in beside Alex. 

"Isabel's going to try and read me to see if my broken ankle was an accident or not," Maria answered. "We're going to try it on my break." 

Liz thought this over. "Where are you going to do it? The back room's too open, and you can't go upstairs. My parents are up there." 

"Well, you know what they say," Alex joked. "Women always go to the bathroom in pairs." 

Maria laughed, but said, "Okay. Bathroom it is. Now, since I'm not on my break yet, what can I get you?" She took their orders and headed back over to the counter to give them to José. After that, the Friday night crowd kept her pretty busy, but she finally was able to nod to Isabel and head to the bathroom. The alien followed her in, locking the door behind them. 

"Are you ready?" Isabel asked. 

"What exactly do I have to do?" 

"Just try and concentrate on what happened the day you fell. I'll connect and see if I can get a flash of it. We don't usually control what we pick up, but it's worth a try." 

Maria obediently closed her eyes, trying to recapture the feeling of falling down the stairs. She was only partially aware of Isabel holding her hand. She hoped that this would be easier than the last time one of the aliens connected with her, when Michael had opened up to her and shown her some of his life. For a moment, she thought about Michael, wondering what he was doing, but then ruthlessly pulled her mind back to the subject at hand. She had to think about her accident. Stairs, falling, that sort of thing. 

She opened her eyes as Isabel spoke her name softly. "Did it work?" she asked the taller girl, who was looking at her with an odd expression in her eyes. 

"It worked," Isabel answered, sounding pleased. "Let's go back out there and I'll tell everyone about it." 

Maria followed Isabel to the table, anxious to hear what the alien had seen. Liz joined them. 

"Well, it was an accident," Isabel said bluntly. "No one pushed you." 

Maria shook her head. "I don't know whether to be relieved that no one pushed me, or depressed that I was that big of a klutz," she commented. 

"Be happy," Liz said. "Your problem is reduced to nasty notes. We don't have to worry about your health any more." 

"And no more all-night stakeouts for Michael," Alex added. 

"He hasn't been doing them anyway," said Maria. "He's too busy avoiding me, remember?" 

Max smiled at her. "I think it's more that he's avoiding your mother, Maria. But at least he's getting more sleep now. I think he looks much more rested, don't you, Iz?" She didn't answer, staring at the table in front of her, lost in thought. Her brother repeated her name, and she looked up. "Where were you?" he teased. 

She frowned, and then looked over at Maria. "I didn't just see the accident when we connected. I saw something else." 

"What?" Maria asked with some trepidation. 

"I saw you and Michael in the desert. And I saw...Pierce. His body, anyway." 

Maria nodded, enlightened. "You saw part of the dream Michael and I had last week. Didn't he tell you about it?" 

"We never asked him," Max admitted. 

"It was pretty freaky," Maria told them. "Pierce's body was buried in the sand, and Michael healed him and he turned into this bright light. I'm thinking that part of the dream came from Michael, not me." 

"Maybe his subconscious is trying to deal with Pierce's death," Alex suggested. "That's been weighing pretty heavily on his mind, hasn't it?" 

Maria nodded. "I just hope he can come to terms with what happened. Because it's tearing him up inside."  
  


*****

Max Evans was sound asleep early Sunday morning when the pounding started. He pulled the covers over his head, trying to ignore it, but it didn't go away. Finally with a sigh, he climbed out of bed and headed for the window. Unlatching it and shoving it open, he turned away and headed back for bed without bothering to look outside. He didn't have to; who else would be banging on his window at this hour? "What is it, Michael?" he mumbled. "It's six in the morning." 

"I know," his friend said unrepentantly. "I need to talk to you." 

This in itself was enough to bring Max fully awake and to a sitting position. "What's up?" 

Michael didn't meet his eyes. "I'm going away." 

"What?" Max burst out. "You can't, Michael. Running won't fix things. We need you here and--" 

Michael cut him off. "Cool your jets, Maxwell. I'm not leaving for good. I just need to get away for a little while. I..." He swallowed, then continued slowly as if searching for words, "I feel like I'm losing control of things. I need to get myself back together. Figure out some stuff." 

"Why can't you do that here? Let us help you. We all want to." 

"That's just the problem! I need to sort some things out and I can't do it while I'm worrying about hurting someone." 

"You mean Maria?" Max asked gently. 

"No," Michael denied, then shook his head. "Well, yes, but not just her. Are you forgetting I almost blew you up a couple of weeks ago? And I could barely control my temper around Alex the other night." His voice dropped. "And the other day...I nearly...I almost killed this guy I hardly even know." 

"You used your powers on him?" Max asked in disbelief. 

"No. Just my hands. But I almost killed him anyway." Michael ran a hand over his eyes and then stared at it a moment before letting his arm drop. He finally met Max's glance, his face bleak. "I need to get away for a while. Get things under control somewhere where I can't hurt anyone. I don't have so many friends that I can afford to lose any of them." 

"What about Maria?" 

Tensing, Michael looked away. "What about her?" 

"You're giving up on protecting her?" Max asked with raised eyebrows. 

Michael looked at him in surprise. "I figured Alex would've told you about that." 

"He did. But tell me anyway. I want to hear what you think." 

"We're pretty sure Pamela Harris wrote the notes, the chick from Maria's play. It's nothing Czechoslovakian, just a stupid human thing. It was petty, but it's not dangerous." 

"What about the feeling you got from the sketch, that Maria was in danger?" 

"I guess I was wrong, then. Just another patented Michael Guerin screw-up," Michael retorted. "Look Maxwell, I'm sure Maria and Alex have things under control. She can handle it. And even if she couldn't, I'm not of any use here until I can control myself." His eyes begged for understanding from his friend. 

"Where will you go?" a voice said from behind them. Michael turned, startled, to see a pajama-clad Isabel standing tensely in the doorway. "Once again your pounding woke me up," she explained. "You need to start using your powers on the locks again, Michael. So where are you going?" she asked again, her voice taut. 

"Not far," he assured her. "I thought I'd hole up in the pod cave for a little while." 

She relaxed somewhat, knowing that he wasn't going to be out of reach. "How long?" 

"I don't know. Coupla days? A week maybe? However long it takes, I guess." 

"You'll need supplies," she commented, her mind working busily. 

"That's why I'm here." He turned to Max. "I wanted to know if I could borrow your sleeping bag." 

"Of course you can," Max assured him with a slight smile. "You've used it more than I ever have anyway." 

Michael shrugged, not particularly wanting to think about all the nights he'd spent using Max's room as an escape from Hank's place. 

"You'll need food and water," Isabel pointed out. 

"I've got that all covered." 

Max studied him. "When are you going?" he asked. 

"I gotta work today. That's why I'm here so early. Thought I'd head out there this afternoon, after I get off." 

"We'll drive you." 

"You don't need to." 

"We'll drive you," Max repeated firmly. 

Michael nodded again, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "Gotta go," he finally said, and headed back toward the window. Isabel followed him, slowly closing the window behind him, before turning and sitting beside her brother. 

"I wish we could do something," she said softly. "It isn't fair. He's gotten the short end of the stick with the whole human side of things all his life, and now the alien side keeps causing problems...Why can't things just work out for him once in a while, Max? Why can't he be happy? I hate this. I hate to see him hurting." 

Max put an arm around his sister. "I know, Izzy. I know."  
  
  
TBC...  



	49. Masques: Chapter 49

CHAPTER 49 

"Okay, where is he?" Maria demanded as she sat down at the cafeteria table where the Evans siblings, Alex and Liz were sitting. "He wasn't in English this morning, and I haven't felt him around. So is he cutting school or what?" 

Max and Isabel exchanged a wary glance, which did not get past Maria. "Come on, guys. You know I have to rely on you for news about Michael these days, since he's not willing to let me be a part of his life. I have to live vicariously through the rest of you. So indulge me. What's he up to?" 

"I'd say a little over six feet," quipped Alex. Isabel gave one of her patented eye rolls and Liz chuckled. Maria, however, didn't give in. 

"Come on. Where is he?" she demanded. 

"He's taking a little break, Maria," Max answered, his tone serious. 

"A break? From what? School? Roswell? His Czechoslovakian status? What?" 

"All of that, actually. He needed to get away for a while." 

Maria frowned. "Is he okay?" 

"We hope so," Isabel put in. "But you know Michael. Sometimes he can be pretty hard to read." 

Maria nodded, understanding that completely. "So you know where he is?" 

"Yes," she answered. "Max and I took him there." Isabel waited for Maria to demand Michael's location, bracing herself to refuse to tell. Michael was adamant about needing to be alone. It had only been through constant badgering on the trip to the pod cave that he'd allowed her to force her cell phone on him so he could call when he was ready to come back to civilization. He'd finally accepted it, more to shut her up than anything else. She suspected it would remain turned off until he was ready to return. 

Maria surprised her, though. All she said was "Okay then." At least until she caught Isabel's startled look; then she explained, "I know he's been avoiding me, and I'm not going to force myself on him when he's trying to deal with other things. You two know where he is, and I trust you with him." A thought occurred to her and a speculative look crossed her face. "Besides, if I really wanted to know, I could probably track him down with my Michael-radar anyway. It might take me a while, but I'll bet I could do it." 

She gave Isabel a rueful smile. "Don't worry, I'm not going to. He wants to be alone right now. For once, he should get what he wants." With a sigh, she added, "I won't tell you I don't hate it, though." 

Liz reached across the table and squeezed her hand as Max spoke slowly. "I don't know that it's what he really wants, Maria," he said, "but I think it's what he needs. Just give him some time, okay?" 

She nodded, and then deliberately changed the subject. "So, who wants to come watch me take Pamela Harris down a couple of pegs this afternoon?" she asked cheerfully. "I've been gearing up for it all weekend. It should be quite a show." 

"Can't turn down the possibility of a good cat fight," Alex joked. "I'd take bets, but for some strange reason, no one wants to wager against Hurricane DeLuca here." 

With a glare of mock reproof, Maria shot back, "Gee, Alex, I sure appreciate your confidence in me. I think." She raised an eyebrow. "I could leave Pamela to you, if you'd rather." 

Alex grinned. "What? And miss out on the bout of the century? No way. I'll just keep my ringside seat, thanks." 

"What exactly are you planning to do, Maria?" Liz asked. 

Maria pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I do happen to have this giant Acme anvil that I never got to use on a certain ornery Czechoslovakian," she mused, then laughed. "Just kidding. Actually, I'm just going to talk to her. Set her straight on a few things, ask a few questions...see if we can behave reasonably for once." 

Isabel smiled and drew a few familiar looking pieces of notebook paper from her purse. "You might want these, to back you up," she said, handing over the sketch and notes. "Michael gave them back. He thought they might be helpful." 

So he hadn't forgotten her completely. A feeling of happiness warmed Maria, but she didn't comment on it. She merely accepted the papers, saying with a grin, "They might. And if they don't work, I can always go back to the anvil, can't I?"  
  


*****

Anvil noticeably absent, Maria rushed down the hall towards the girls' dressing room. Her intention was to get in costume and on stage quickly, avoiding the temptation to confront Pamela before rehearsal began. She was determined not to let the witch spoil the rehearsal for her; there would be plenty of time to deal with her afterwards. Setting down her bookbag, she slipped out of her shoes and padded over to the costume rack for the formfitting midnight blue dress that she wore at the beginning of the show. 

Except it wasn't there. 

With a frown, she sorted through the garments on the rack. Part of her wasn't at all surprised to find that none of her costumes were there. She could buy one being missing; maybe Megan had taken it to fix a hem or something. But all of them? She knew in her gut that there was a reason for this, and the reason's name was Pamela Harris. 

Okay. This was the final straw. It was bad enough for the spiteful witch to single-handedly harass her, but the costumes weren't even her property. Some came from the school's costume closet, and one was rented. Pam Harris was going to be sorry for this. But first, Maria had to find the costumes, before Pamela and her snotty entourage arrived at the dressing room. 

Gritting her teeth, she searched through the small room, with no luck. Her mind churned. She knew she'd hung them up on the rack after Friday's rehearsal. And Pamela was gone all weekend, so she couldn't have absconded with them then, especially with no Czechoslovakian superpowers to enable her to undo the locks on the school doors. So it had to have been today, sometime during class or at lunch. 

Trying to decide where to look next, Maria moved slowly into the hallway. Pamela wouldn't have thrown the costumes away; it was too likely someone would see them in the trash and think it was odd. Too easy to be found out that way. No, they had to be somewhere where no one would find them at all, or where they wouldn't be given a second thought if they were seen. Maria frowned again. 

"What's wrong?" came a voice from behind, startling her. She turned to see Isabel Evans standing, looking at her curiously. The alien must be on her way out to the parking lot, Maria thought irrelevantly. Quickly she explained the missing costumes, adding, "I've got to find them. Fast. Rehearsal will start soon, and I need to be there, in costume, when it does. I will not let Pamela Harris get the best of me." 

"I'll help you look," Isabel immediately offered. "Any ideas where?" 

"Someplace where no one would notice them if they saw them," Maria said, picking back up where her thoughts had left off. "Somewhere nearby. She wouldn't have been able to go very far without being seen, otherwise." 

"The best place to hide clothes is with other clothes. You know, hide them in plain sight," Isabel ventured. 

"Like in the costume storage room," said Maria as the idea struck her. "There's a ton of stuff in there. What are a few more costumes stuck in the middle?" 

Together, they headed backstage to the small room, jam-packed with garments of every color and description. "I'm surprised Megan was able to find anything in here," Maria commented. "This place is a mess." 

"What exactly are we looking for?" Isabel asked. Maria described the costumes, and together they started going through the racks. Maria had hastily scrambled through three racks' worth of garments and was trying to push her way past a fourth rack next to the wall to see if anything was jammed in behind it when Isabel spoke. 

"Does the negligee have marabou trim on it?" 

Poking her head out from behind a rack of assorted coats and dresses, Maria looked over at Isabel. The alien had crossed back to the doorway and was standing, peering behind the open door. "Because if so, I think I found them." 

Maria quickly disentangled herself from a 1980's-style prom dress that had evidently been recycled as a period ball gown and joined Isabel. Her heart sank as she took in the pile of clothing that was jammed behind the door. Slowly she bent down and sorted through it; it was all there, down to the leopard-print high heels she wore in the beginning of Act II. The shoes had fared okay, but the dresses and negligee were wadded up into a ball, heavily creased. Even the yellow rain slicker looked wrinkled--a real feat, since it was made of vinyl. 

"Fantastic," she muttered, holding up one of the abused dresses. "Pamela has finally managed to make me look bad." 

"Not if we don't let her," Isabel said firmly. "Which one do you wear first?" Maria pointed out the blue dress. Shutting the door, Isabel ordered, "Put it on so we can see how bad it is. There's not a lot of time before rehearsal, right?" Maria looked at her for a moment, taking in the glint of challenge in her eyes, then quickly scrambled out of her clothes and into the dress. After pulling up the zipper, Isabel told her to hold still, and slowly ran her hand over the worst of the wrinkles. In moments, the front of the dress looked pristine. 

"Boy, who needs an iron with you around?" Maria joked, gazing down at herself. "Okay, I am now officially jealous of you and your powers." 

"Would you really want everything that comes with them?" Isabel asked in a dry tone, working on the back of the dress. "Because I can't tell you how many times I've wished I were a normal human. I wouldn't give up Max or Michael for anything, but sometimes I can't help imagining what my life would be like if things were different." 

"Yeah. I know what you mean," Maria said softly. "The grass is always greener on the other person's planet, right?" 

Isabel smiled. "Something like that. Now, which shoes go with this?" Maria grabbed them and pulled them on. "You go ahead--you don't have much time. I'll get the rest of these fixed up and sneak them back into the dressing room once Pamela is on stage," Isabel offered. 

"Thanks!" Maria cried, turning around and giving the startled alien a quick hug. "You're a great friend, Isabel." She did a little happy dance. "Oh, this is just going to kill her," Maria breathed. "I can't wait to see her face when I walk in wearing this!" 

Grinning at her antics, Isabel pushed her towards the door. "Go on, get out there already." 

Maria headed across the backstage area, intent on getting to the stage before Pamela saw the direction she was coming from. Heading around the flats that served as the flower shop walls, now fixed firmly in place, she found the rest of the cast standing on the stage. The three doo-wop girls were pulled aside in their own little group, their backs to her. They didn't notice her approaching. 

"It's really irresponsible of her," she heard Pamela say over the sounds of the combo warming up. "Rehearsal is supposed to start in a few minutes, and no one's seen her. By the time she gets ready, we'll be running late, and Ms. Bedinger absolutely hates that. Poor Maria," she said in a falsely sympathetic tone. "She is really going to be in for it. Well, that's what you get when you cast someone totally inexperienced. If I had the lead--" 

Maria interrupted her. "But you don't, do you?" she said calmly. Pamela turned to look at her. Maria did not miss the shock in Pamela's eyes as the girl took in Maria's Czechoslovakian-pressed dress, nor the way her mouth fell open. A sense of glee filled Maria, and she decided to hell with waiting. "But if you have a problem with that, you can always leave another note in my locker. That's about your speed, isn't it?" 

Pamela took two steps towards her and spoke angrily, not bothering to deny it. "Took you long enough to figure it out. I always knew you were stupid." 

Shaking her head, Maria let out a laugh. "See, that's where you're wrong. Now, leaving me hate mail because your ex-boyfriend is seeing a completely different person, that's dumb. It completely boggles the mind." 

Pamela looked at her in disbelief. "A different person? Your stupid lies get lamer every time you tell one, DeLuca. I saw you and Mark together. You can't get out of that." 

By now, the two had the attention of not only the entire cast, but also the combo and a few assorted stagehands. 

"Well, obviously you're either on hallucinogens, or you need to get yourself a pair of very thick glasses, 'cause you sure didn't see me," Maria retorted. "You don't have to believe me, although I've only told you the truth. But maybe you'll believe your friend here," she continued, reaching out and pulling Melanie into the 'conversation'. "Don't you have something to tell her?" she pointedly asked the other blonde. 

Melanie met her eyes, then nodded resignedly and turned towards Pamela. "It wasn't Maria," she stated baldly. "Mark was dating me." 

The cast and crew turned interested eyes towards the tall brunette, avid to see her reaction. It didn't disappoint. 

"You what?" she screeched. "You're the one who told me it was her!" 

"Gee, why would that be? Do you think she was trying to cover up something?" Maria asked no one in particular. 

"You heard me," Melanie returned, paying no heed to Maria. "But frankly, you can have him. He's a jerk." Surprised, Maria shot a glance over at Mark, who didn't look very pleased at this statement. She decided it was time to take control of the situation again, and stepped between Pamela and Melanie, who had started yelling at each other. Well, Pamela was yelling and Melanie was answering back. 

"So what exactly was the purpose of the little party favors you left me, Pamela?" Maria demanded. "To get me to stop seeing a guy I never even dated in the first place? Really smart there. To get me to quit the play? Just to be vindictive? What? And why the heck did you want me to go to the park that Friday, anyway? What was I supposed to do, play in the sandbox?" 

"You were supposed to think Mark stood you up!" Pamela snapped. "So you'd get angry with him. And if you caught a cold and couldn't sing, so much the better." 

"Very, very lame. You know, the next time you go to the trouble of all these elaborate--but totally ineffective--schemes, you might want to verify your facts first! Why couldn't you just ask me if I was seeing Mark? For god's sake, you are totally crazed!" 

"Like I could believe anything you said," Pamela shot back. 

"Gee, I don't know, Pam, I'm not the one who's been lying to you, now am I?" Maria mocked, staring up at her. "Maybe you should talk to your so-called best friend and ex-boyfriend about that. And while we're having this little talk," she continued, warming up now, "maybe you'd like to explain your cousin Barry, who just happens to work for the company that was supposed to be supplying the plant puppets. Did they really double book, or is there something else you should be admitting?" 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark, who'd been watching in angry silence, stiffen. "What did you do, Pamela?" he demanded, turning to the brunette. 

Pamela either didn't notice how furious he was, or was herself too pissed off to care, because she didn't pay any attention to him, remaining focused on Maria. "Why do you even care? We've got plants, haven't we? The show is going on!" she yelled. 

"I care because my friend ended up having to put in hours and hours of time he didn't have to make sure we could do this show!" 

"Oh yes, your supposed boyfriend, that grungy loser Michael Guerin," Pamela sneered. 

"Yes, my very good friend Michael Guerin, who, along with my other friends, helped figure you out, by the way!" Maria took one deadly step towards the senior, and opened her mouth to slay. "And speaking of my friends," she continued cooly, "You'd better hope that nothing ever happens to me, not so much as a broken fingernail. Because those friends of mine have got the written proof that you threatened me. And they won't hesitate to take you down." 

Ms. Bedinger, who entered the auditorium through a side door, forestalled Pamela's furious reaction. "Good, you're all ready," the teacher said. "Everyone in places for the top of the show, please. We've got a lot of work to do this afternoon." 

Maria didn't move, glaring coldly up at Pamela. It was easy not to back down; she just pretended she was Michael's stone wall and refused to budge. Pamela, with no stubborn alien to emulate, was only able to stare back for a few moments before she tore her eyes away and headed off stage. Maria allowed a triumphant grin to cover her face and winked down at Alex in the orchestra pit as she walked off to the wings, ready to make her Act I entrance. 

The rehearsal went fairly smoothly; that is, if you ignored the angry vibes shooting off Pamela Harris at Maria, at Melanie, at Mark...well, at just about everyone. It was not a pretty sight. Maria did a fairly good job of ignoring her, though, concentrating instead on becoming Audrey, and things moved on like they should. 

At least until the end of the second scene in Act II, when barely held tempers started to fray. It all began in the middle of 'The Meek Shall Inherit' as Debbie, Pamela and Melanie rushed back on stage after a fiendishly fast costume change into long glamour gowns and beehive-styled wigs. Melanie, not completely fastened into her high-heeled sandal, tripped and skidded forward into Pamela, sending her staggering and knocking her wig forward to cover her face. She jerked it back out of her eyes and glared at Melanie, although she continued to sing, but it was obvious she wasn't happy. The laughter from Dennis Cooper, who'd headed out into the house to watch the rest of the play after his character was killed off, didn't help either. As the song ended, Pamela shoved Melanie out of her way and stalked off stage. 

Shortly afterwards, the last scene began, and Maria stood in the wings, pulling on the yellow rain slicker. She had to push past a squabbling Pamela and Melanie to get to the stage, but went doggedly on, ignoring the whispered insults flying back and forth between the two girls. She concentrated on her scene with Mark, trying not to get thrown by the glares he kept sending into the wings as the offstage fight got noticeably louder. For the first time, he actually stumbled over a few lines, and Maria could see his shoulders stiffening with tension. It was with a great sense of relief that she finally got to exit. With Megan's help, she made a fast change into the nightgown, negligee and mules for her final scene as Mark said a few more lines to the plant and stalked off, obviously not at all pleased. 

Wafting her way back on stage, Maria began to sing, and was soon caught up in her scene with the plant. Ignoring the offstage argument, which had escalated to include Mark as well as the two girls, she allowed herself to be lured towards the puppet, and then pretended to fight its branches as it pulled her into its open maw and chomped down. "Help!" she cried out. 

No help came. 

She pretended to struggle with the plant a little more, and called out again. "Help!" 

No Seymour rushed in to save her from the deadly plant. Where was Mark? She struggled with the plant for a few more moments, but there was only so much she could do. She tried to decide whether or not to give up and climb all the way into the plant, allowing her character to die and skipping the tender scene with Mark and the 'Somewhere That's Green' reprise. After a moment of reflection--and being a modern sort of woman--she decided to hell with Mark. If Seymour wasn't going to come to her rescue, she'd save herself. Lifting up the top lip of the plant puppet, she pulled herself free and stood up. Still no Mark on stage. 

A very unamused Ms. Bedinger called from out in the house. "Hold it right there, Maria. Mark? Where are you? You've missed an entrance." 

"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" Kyle hissed from somewhere inside the giant plant. 

Leaning over the puppet, Maria responded, "Mark's too busy fighting with Pamela and Melanie to make his entrance." From the wings, there was the sound of an open palm hitting skin, and she shook her head. "Somehow I don't think we're going to be finishing this scene for a while." 

The plant began to wiggle and contort, and Maria watched in some amusement as Kyle climbed out the back. "Well, I'm not staying in the plant then. It's too cramped. Couldn't Guerin build it a little bigger?" he complained, moving to stand next to her. 

"Why? A little claustrophobic, are we?" Maria teased him. 

Before he had a chance to answer, there was a blur of motion off in the wings. Maria stepped to the side just fast enough to miss being knocked over by Pamela and Melanie, who were so engrossed in their shoving match that they didn't notice they were now on stage. 

After that, things happened so quickly that Maria was never quite sure how it all played out. 

Kyle, attempting to get between the two girls to stop them, ducked as Pamela's fist shot out. Her arm swung over his head and cold-cocked her former best friend, who went staggering backwards. Mark, coming back on stage with a red mark on his cheek where he'd been slapped, was just in time to be run into by Melanie. Knocked off his balance, he barely avoided falling off the edge of the stage into the orchestra pit. 

By this time, Kyle was holding Pamela by the shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. Debbie raced on stage and threw the contents of a very full water bottle at the hysterical senior, giving Pamela and Kyle both a faceful of water. With a shriek, Pamela pulled out of Kyle's hold and barged towards Debbie, who bolted. 

Unfortunately, she got a little too close to Mark, who was still teetering on the edge of the stage, and he fell into the orchestra pit, taking her with him, both narrowly missing the drum set on the way down. 

Kyle, who'd started after Pamela, slipped in the puddle of water that Debbie had inadvertently created and landed hard on his knees. Reaching out, he did manage to grab Pamela and swing her around, but she got her foot caught in the hem of her gown and stumbled. Maria watched with wide eyes as Pamela fell, ever so gracefully in slow motion, into the waiting mouth of the plant puppet. Without the support of a puppeteer inside, the plant trembled, and the top lid jiggled for a few brief seconds before plunging down to trap the senior beneath it. 

There was silence in the auditorium. Slowly, Maria looked around and realized she was the only one on stage still standing. 

A moment later, a cacophony of raised voices filled the auditorium. As Ms. Bedinger tried to regain order, Maria helped Kyle to his feet and then strolled over to the plant. She idly noted the excellence of Michael's handiwork as she lifted the top lip. Pamela was lying in an awkward, but unhurt, heap inside. Trying to bite back the laughter that threatened to erupt, Maria studied her. 

"You know, Pam? You should try gardening. Vegetation looks really good on you." And with that, she let the plant close gently down once more.  
  


*****

"...I mean, I thought Alex was absolutely going to lose it!" Maria chuckled, thinking back to the rehearsal the previous afternoon. "It was like watching the Three Stooges or something." 

Alex looked around the cafeteria table at the others before turning back to Maria. "What would that make you? Shemp?" he jokes, his eyes dancing. Then, as if to ward her off her mock indignation, he grabbed her hand and lifted it high into the air. "Ladies and gentleman," he announced. "The winnah and still champeen, Maria DeLuca!" And Maria's face shone rosy from happy embarrassment as her four friends burst into a spontaneous round of applause.  
  
  
TBC...  



	50. Masques: Chapter 50

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 50_

Michael leaned against the wall of the pod cave and rested his forearms on his bent knees. With a heartfelt sigh, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, weary to the bone. 

Two days. He'd been here two days, and he hadn't accomplished anything. He'd just wasted his time. 

Well, that and attempted to demolish the cave wall. 

He'd spent most of Sunday night raging against his situation, his helplessness, his stupid human weakness. Letting his fury consume him. But the only result had been a pair of bruised and bloody fists, torn from hours of pounding against the wall of the cave. 

At least in his rage he'd found the presence of mind to avoid the pods, not wanting to disturb one of their few tangible souvenirs of their former lives. 

He'd finally fallen asleep, too exhausted to fight any more, only to wake several hours later and repeat the cycle. Less violently this time, because his hands were beginning to swell, although he didn't think he'd broken anything. 

Now he sat there, battered and totally devoid of energy. And for the first time in a very long time, he felt a sense of clarity. He was able to look without bias at himself and his situation. And he didn't particularly like what he saw. 

He had spent the last six months reacting blindly to things. Not thinking, just raging away at the perceived unfairness of his life. He'd thrust everyone away, fighting with Max, withdrawing from Isabel, closing himself off from the few humans who'd actually, surprisingly, become his friends. 

And why? Because he couldn't--or didn't want to--deal with what he'd done. Sure, he'd pretended to push it aside, and maybe that worked for a little while, but he couldn't hide from it any longer. 

He'd killed a man. He'd taken a life out of fear and hate and anger. He'd lost control--if he'd ever had it--and Pierce was dead. 

He could never take that back. He could never go back and change it. 

He could never make up for it, either. 

But he couldn't allow it to burden his soul any more. 

He could never undo his actions, but one moment didn't have to define the rest of his life, either. He could still do something of value. Something meaningful. Be a part of something bigger than himself. 

And he could help Max and Isabel by doing it. 

So no matter what he felt or wished or regretted or wanted, he had to let go of his guilt. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. 

Somehow he had to forgive himself.  
  


*****

Once again a sudden noise woke Max from a deep sleep. This time it wasn't a pounding on the window, though. It was the shrill ringing of the phone. 

Managing to reach a hand out and grab the receiver before the noise could wake his parents, Max blearily eyed his clock radio. It was 2:43. "What is it, Michael? Some of us have school in the morning, you know," he said in a grumpy tone. 

The voice that spoke gave him shivers, so much that for a moment he didn't take in what it was saying. It was very familiar--and it wasn't Michael. It took him back to his captivity and torture in the white room. 

Pierce. 

No, not Pierce. Michael had killed him and effectively rid Max of that particular nightmare. Well, the living one anyway. No one could do anything about the bad dreams he still occasionally got. Michael wasn't the only one with trouble sleeping. 

But Pierce was gone, and the shapeshifter Nasedo had taken the agent's place as head of the FBI Special Unit. Max hadn't heard one word from him since he'd left for Washington. "Nasedo?" he said sharply. 

The shapeshifter's oh-so-cheerful voice belied the seriousness of his question. "Where's Michael?" he repeated. 

"Away. Why?" asked Max, sitting up. 

Nasedo didn't answer, merely barking out, "Do you have any idea what he's been up to?" 

"Well, yes, pretty much," Max replied, asking again, "Why?" 

"He's drawing too much attention to you all. I can't protect you from this distance. You need to keep a better rein on him." 

Max bristled. "I'm his friend, not his keeper. Michael can take care of himself, make his own decisions." 

"You're the leader. He's your second. You command, he obeys." Nasedo's statement was implacable. 

Max got a sudden mental image of his headstrong friend meekly obeying his every order. It was ludicrous. "You obviously don't know Michael. Or me, for that matter," he said with a grin. 

"Regardless, the attention he's calling to himself is dangerous." 

Max frowned. "How do you know what's going on, anyway?" he asked suspiciously. "I thought you were in D.C. taking care of the Special Unit." 

Nasedo sounded amused, in a cold, uncaring sort of way. "And it's part of my job to keep tabs on areas of suspected alien activity. I've kept up Pierce's subscription to the Roswell Journal. And when your hotheaded second got into the paper, and Tess verified--" 

"Tess?" Max interrupted. 

"Tess verified the incident, and said he's been the talk of the school. Not exactly a low profile. Do I need to remind you that attention can be dangerous?" 

"No, you don't need to remind me. And believe me, Michael doesn't like the attention any more than you do. He's been going through some things, that's all." 

There was a tense silence on the other end of the line. "What things?" 

There was no way Max was going to sit there and tell Nasedo everything that was going on in Michael's life. His friend had been definite that he didn't trust the shapeshifter, and didn't want him involved. Max would respect that wish. So he merely said, "It doesn't matter. We've got it under control." 

Nasedo's voice was insistent. "Power problems? Strange dreams?" He paused for a few minutes. "Has he been acting unlike himself?" He seemed to take Max's silence for confirmation. "You have no idea what you're dealing with," he said, his tone sharp. "Listen to me, Max. It's imperative you keep him under control. Do not under any circumstances allow him to use his powers, not even the tiniest little bit." 

"What's going on?" demanded Max. 

"I can't just take off without compromising my position with the Special Unit," the shapeshifter continued ruthlessly. "But I'll get some things cleared up and be there within a couple of weeks. Until then, keep a rein on your second, or the consequences could be catastrophic." The warning was quite clear. "And don't tell him about this conversation. The less he knows, the better." 

And then all Max heard was a dial tone on the other end of the line. He stared at the receiver in his hand. What was going on?  
  


*****

With a frustrated grunt, Michael relaxed his right hand, feeling the pull on his swollen knuckles lessen. In the light of the Coleman lantern Max had dug out from the recesses of the Evanses' garage, he stared down at the small pebble he'd been clutching. It was just a rock. A tiny thing. Nothing to it. Izzy could change one of them when she was eight. Hell, _he_ could do it back then, at least occasionally. So why couldn't he now? 

Dropping the small stone, he ran both hands over his tired face. If he was going to be of any use to Max, he had to get better at this power stuff. He had never had great control over it, but he'd been able to do some things. He'd changed his fingerprints, like Nasedo had shown him, during their rescue of Max, hadn't he? And then the visions; and just a couple of weeks ago he'd connected with Maria even if he hadn't been able to control what she'd seen. At the very least, he'd always been able to blow things up, even if he didn't mean to. So why couldn't he change one stupid little rock? 

The chilly air surrounded him, wrapping him in its cold embrace. He idly considered going outside to look for something with which to make a fire, but a total bone-weary reluctance to move kept him from it. Instead, he reached out for the sleeping bag that was laid out next to him. Unzipping it, he wrapped it around his shoulders like a blanket. He shook his head at his own stupidity. It figured he'd decide he needed to hang out in a cave in the middle of November. He couldn't hole up someplace comfortable, not him. And desert or no desert, it was cold. 

Holding the sleeping bag closed around him, he reached the other hand out and groped along the cave floor for another rock. Finding one, he picked it up and studied it in the dim light. It might've been the one from before. Maybe not. It was just a rock, after all. 

Idly rolling it in his hand, he let his mind wander. 

Cold or not, he actually felt more comfortable in this place than anywhere else he could remember. Whether it was due to the alien pods hanging nearby or to its seclusion, he didn't know. But it was a place in which he didn't have to hide what he was from anyone. He could be alien and it didn't matter. After all, the only people who'd ever seen it were aliens, too. They wouldn't care that he was. 

No, wait. Liz Parker had seen it. She'd been there when they got the so-called message from home, that horrible day last spring where everything had gone all wrong. Well, wronger. Was that even a word? 

He could still remember Liz's face after she'd heard about the aliens' destiny--not to couple together, but to save their home planet. She'd left so that Max could do what he needed to in order to save an entire race. Never mind that it broke her heart to do it, and Max's too. Michael wasn't blind, even though he liked to pretend to himself he was. It was easier to keep separate. But he could see what Max and Liz meant to each other. Liz had left. It was maybe the bravest thing he'd ever seen. 

A small voice deep inside wasn't going to let this go so easily. Liz had given up Max, even though she loved him. So how was that different from Michael giving up Maria, even though he'd loved her? 

Because he _had_ loved her. He wasn't sure how anyone could have become so important to him. Especially an overactive, hyper pixie of a blonde girl who somehow was able to make him feel things he didn't want to feel. Things he hadn't even known he was capable of feeling. 

He shook his head. It was different for him, though. Max and Liz--they deserved each other. Barring Max's extra-terrestrial origins, they maybe even were meant for each other. True love, soul mates, whatever, if you wanted to get all sappy about things. They were both such glaringly _good_ people, in an upstanding, honorable, heroic kind of way. Liz had let Max go because it was the right thing to do. 

Michael had shoved Maria away because he was scared. 

Scared of hurting her, scared of himself, scared of the things she made him feel, scared that he didn't know how to or couldn't handle those things...All of that and more. Their whole 'relationship', if you could call it that, was a bizarre dance, with him being pulled to her, then running away, then being dragged back to her in spite of his fears and intentions. 

Because no matter what, he couldn't escape her, not entirely. She always seemed to be stuck somewhere in the back recesses of his thoughts, ready to leap out the instant he wasn't paying attention. He wouldn't mind if it didn't make it that much harder to stay away from her. Which he had to do, and not just because her mother wanted him to, although that was part of it. He'd never paid that much heed to grownups before, though, except to try and avoid Hank's drunken rages, so why get all hung up on what one grownup thought? Was it just because she was Maria's mother? Mrs. DeLuca was important to Maria, a vital part of her existence. They weren't well off, but they had each other. They were family. 

And Michael was starting to understand just what that really meant. He'd always wanted a real home, a real family, without really knowing what it was. He'd been envious of Max and Isabel for their life with the Evanses--who wouldn't when compared to the squalor of life with Hank?--but he'd never really believed in it. Now, the two DeLucas--he could almost see the bond between them. Even when Mrs. DeLuca had been furious with the both of them, he could see how much she loved her daughter. 

It was a far cry from the easy acceptance Mr. & Mrs. Evans gave to Max and Izzy. Everything was a little too perfect in that particular household. Well, other than the two teenagers being aliens. And even if Isabel thought otherwise, Michael couldn't help believing that things would be different if the Evanses knew the truth about their children. No matter how jealous Michael might have been of his two fellow aliens' situation--and he had to admit he was, if only to himself--it had never seemed quite real. It was too dreamlike, too good to be true. 

But Maria's small family--now that was real. Real, and vibrant, and vital. Maybe even more so because the two were all each other had. Even with the hard things he knew they had gone through, they still went on, fighting and struggling and needing each other. 

Not that different from how he felt about Maria. Well, he knew he didn't feel the exact same way about her as her mother did, that was for sure. But he needed her just as much as Mrs. DeLuca did. He just didn't have the luxury of acting on it any more. 

It was funny--the weird kind of funny--how quickly she'd set roots in him. They'd gone to school together for years. He supposed they'd probably had classes together, and she'd probably waited on him some of the many times Max had dragged him into the Crashdown, but he'd never really noticed her. He wasn't even sure now if he'd known her name. She was just one in a sea of faces, too dangerous to know much about. He was too busy hiding from the world to stop and see her as anything other than that. 

And then came the day when Liz had been shot, and the world had taken a sudden left turn onto a whole new road. He'd found friends that accepted him, regardless of what he was or how he acted, and he'd discovered that he was far more human than he'd ever imagined. 

And through it all, Maria was there beating on his stupid self-made stone wall and tearing it apart piece by piece. He'd tried to mend it, sure, but it was never the same, like she was some sort of acid that ate away at its underlying structure, exposing the parts of him he'd kept hidden even from himself. 

Stupid analogy, Guerin. But still, she had worn him down, and he was weak. If it weren't for Mrs. DeLuca, he wasn't sure his resolve would be able to hold out any longer. He'd probably go running again, but towards her this time. 

As much as he wanted to do the right thing, he was weak. And the tiny part of him, buried down deep, that had almost accepted the human part of himself was threatening to overwhelm the supposedly much more established alien side. 

Part of him wouldn't even mind. 

He could give in to his feelings and try to act human. Allow himself to feel for Maria again--not that he'd really ever stopped--and try to make something of his life here on this planet. He could be with her, hold her, kiss her, listen to her babble about nothing in particular, watch her breathe in one of those stupid oils she always carried around...He could lose himself in her, and feel like he actually belonged. Forget his origins, his search for home, never try to use his powers, whatever. 

Except then instead of being an outcast who nonetheless had a purpose, a part to play in something bigger than himself, he'd just be a loser with nothing. No reason that he'd ever existed in the first place. 

And he was terrified of that too. 

His eyes closed, he continued to roll the pebble in his hand, his fingers running over its smooth surface, trying to block out his fear. 

Wait a minute. 

Smooth? 

It was a rough pebble, oddly shaped by nature. Or it had been. Now it felt round, and smooth, and familiar. Kind of like...the metal walls in the room he'd imprisoned himself inside in his own head. 

His eyes flew open and he stared down at the thing in his hand. It didn't look like metal, but it didn't look like a rock, either. It was clear, with a slight bluish tint to it. Color aside, it kind of reminded him of the alien balance stones River Dog had given them. 

He'd changed it. But how? 

Reaching out, Michael carefully set the blue crystalline sphere on the floor in front of him and searched until his hand found another small desert rock. Holding it loosely in his hand, he closed his eyes, willing it to change. 

Nothing. 

What was going on? One minute, he had some sort of rudimentary control over his powers and the next, it was gone? How had he managed to change one when he couldn't repeat it? He grimaced, his mind churning with the need to make some sense out of this. What was different the time it had worked? He'd just been sitting there, with the sleeping bag around him--could temperature affect his powers? He'd let his thoughts drift, and... 

He froze with a sudden realization. The other difference between his failed attempts and his successful one was Maria. Thoughts of Maria invading his head, and suddenly he could tap into whatever it was that allowed him to use his powers instead of struggling with them. It had been so easy, he hadn't even realized he'd done it. 

Looking back, this wasn't the first time, either. Way back last year on their trip to Marathon, he hadn't been able to get a vision from the key until she'd stood next to him and told him to try again. And when he did, it had worked. More recently, he'd been able to heal Pierce's body, and Maria was nearby. Sure, it was only in a dream, but it had to mean something, didn't it? She could feel when he was around, and he'd dragged her into his mental prison and then, the other night, into his dream...Was it possible for a person to be the missing key to controlling his powers? 

When you looked on the surface of things, it seemed stupid. An extra-terrestrial needing a human to be able to use his powers? And out of the billions of people on the planet, the human he needed just happened to be the girl he...well, happened to be Maria? He shook his head. He was too much of a skeptic to buy into that. The coincidence was too strong. Max and Liz fated to meet each other--sure, okay. But Michael Guerin fated to meet Maria DeLuca? No, it had to be blind luck that she was the one who could help him focus. 

Except that usually his luck tended to be of the more negative kind. 

Well, one way to put paid to this whole idea. He'd just think about Maria, and when nothing happened to the stone in his hand, he'd know he was just being stupid. 

So he closed his eyes again and summoned up an image of her in his mind. The one he chose was a recent memory, with her standing, laughing, on the West Roswell High stage in some filmy white thing, looking joyous and alive and real. He'd wanted to be up there with her, to allow some of her happiness to reflect onto him. He could picture her so clearly, she could almost have been in the pod chamber, standing right there in front of him. 

Except of course she couldn't. He was avoiding her. Running away in fear--big surprise there. Maybe thinking about Maria wasn't such a good idea after all. It just tore him up inside, and since it couldn't really have any effect on his powers... 

He opened his eyes and stared down at the smooth blue sphere in his hand. Oops. Maybe it could.  
  
  
TBC...  



	51. Masques: Chapter 51/Epilogue

Masques: An M&M 'Little Shop' fic

_CHAPTER 51_

By the time dawn came there were half a dozen round crystalline rocks, in varying shades of blue, lined up on the ground in front of Michael. The excitement of actually being able to manipulate the stupid things had kept him awake, but now he sat back, tired but actually reasonably content. Picking up one last stone, he idly tossed it up and down, the repetitive movement soothing in its regularity. 

It had worked. Six times. He'd actually manipulated matter six times, without blowing anything up. Once could have been a fluke, but six times? And all he'd had to do was to think of Maria. He had actually figured this out, by himself. He'd tried to think logically, had come up with a hypothesis, and had done trials to test it out. And his hypothesis had been proven. He smirked. He usually tended to go more on instinct and gut feeling, reacting to things. But no, he'd reasoned it out and set up a procedure to test it, just like any research scientist geek. Liz Parker would be proud. He could just picture her, standing in some lab and droning on about the results of his 'experiment', while a glassy-eyed Max stood by. 

And in an instant, a seventh blue rock was in his hand. He blinked down at it, confused. He hadn't even been thinking about Maria--he'd been thinking about Liz. 

Maybe his hypothesis wasn't so brilliant after all. 

Scrambling to his feet, Michael scanned the cave for more rocks. Grabbing one, he closed his eyes and concentrated on Liz again. The result was another blue crystal. A second stone and thoughts of Max: blue crystal. Thoughts of Vice Principal Sutter, hockey and the Crashdown's Men in Blackberry pie. One blue crystal after another, tumbling transformed from his hand. 

Okay, so maybe this wasn't a tie to Maria. It didn't seem tied to anything, actually. He was doing this by himself. And if he was, then he should be able to manage it any time, right? Right. Yet another rock was clutched in his hand, and he closed his eyes, this time concentrating on the rock itself, willing it to change. He tried to drum up the feeling he'd gotten when he'd healed Pierce in his dream. There he'd been manipulating human cells and this was mineral, but manipulation was manipulation, right? 

Evidently not. He opened his eyes to see an irregular, gray, normal-looking rock in his palm. Shit. The only time it didn't work was when he actively _tried_ to change one. Then nothing. 

Had he lost it? He frantically dropped to his knees, picking up one of the bluish crystals. Maybe he could change it back. Moments later, he dropped it, and it rolled to join the others, unchanged. Reaching over to the sleeping bag, he placed a hand on it and attempted to change its color, not bothering to consider whether Max would really want a bright green sleeping bag. It didn't matter anyway, because it stayed a nice, boring navy blue. 

His mood deflated, he stood, staring at his useless hands. Great. He could use his powers, but only when he wasn't trying to use them. And when he was successful, what could he do, anyway? Make blue rocks. Really useful talent, Guerin. 

He crouched down, gathering up the stones. He'd have to stash them somewhere in the cave. He couldn't leave them outside where they might be found, and he didn't want another reminder about what a useless screw-up he was. He wanted them out of his sight. 

He had his hands full of them, trying to decide where to put them, when it happened. In his hands, the pile of stones began to glow. 

Stumbling back in shock, Michael tripped over the discarded sleeping bag and dropped the rocks. The light inside them went out immediately. He lay for a moment where he'd fallen; then, pushing himself to his feet, he reached out and gathered them again. It was only a moment before the light reappeared. He watched it grow, casting a mellow light that dappled the walls of the pod chamber. The stones remained as cool in his hands as the light they produced. It was calming, somehow. It seemed very natural, very right. 

And then he looked over at the wall beside him, and saw it. A set of pale handprints, chest high, shining against the rock wall. He slowly approached, and the prints brightened as the light drew near. There were four of them, lined up against the wall: two larger, one medium and one smaller. One of the larger ones seemed slightly separated from the others. He dumped all the stones into his left hand, holding the pile against his chest so he wouldn't drop any of them, and reached out his right hand to cover the solitary print. His hand fit it perfectly. 

Not taking his eyes off of the print, he bent and placed the stones on the ground underneath it. The moment they left his hand, the light died. He crossed to the Coleman lantern, and carried it back over, scrutinizing every last inch of the wall. Nothing. No visible handprints. They'd vanished, as if they were never really there in the first place. 

Letting out a deep breath, Michael once again gathered the stones and watched them glow. The handprints reappeared, washed in the bluish light. He studied them for several very long moments before crossing over to the duffel bag he'd brought with him and rooting through it for Isabel's cell phone.  
  


*****

Max had a pullover sweater halfway on when the telephone rang. Unceremoniously thrusting his head through the neck hole, he crossed to the phone, pulling the sweater down as he went. Picking up the receiver, he said calmly, "Hello?" Inside, he didn't feel particularly calm, though. The last time he'd answered the phone, just last night, it had been Nasedo with a very cryptic and unsettling message. 

On the other end, Michael spoke quickly. "Max. There's something you need to see." 

"What's going on, Michael? Are you okay?" Max asked, concerned. 

He could almost hear the excitement in his friend's voice. "Yeah. I'm fine. But some...weird stuff has happened." 

"Weird? How weird? In what way?" 

There was a pause on the other end, and then Michael said slowly, "I think I want you to see it for yourself, Maxwell." 

"Max! Hurry up, we'll be late for school!" Isabel's voice came from the doorway. 

"Is that Izzy?" Michael asked, at the same time Isabel noticed Max was on the phone, and demanded, "Is that Michael?" 

"Yes, and yes," Max answered both of them. 

Isabel's tone was eager. "Is he ready to come back?" 

"Hold on, Michael," Max said, then turned to his sister. "I don't know, but something's up. He wants me to see what's going on." He spoke into the phone once more. "Michael? Are you still at the pod chamber?" 

"Yeah." 

"Do you need me to come right now? Because if not, I should go to school. I've got a test in fourth period." 

Michael's voice was low when he responded. "Don't worry about it then. After school is okay. I'm not going anywhere." 

Max winced, noting the disappearance of Michael's former excitement. He hadn't been trying to put the other alien off, he'd just been asking, trying to get a sense of what was happening. He knew where his priorities were, but maybe his friend didn't. Time to make it perfectly clear. "No, Michael. You are more important than a test," he stated firmly. 

There was silence on the other end as Michael took that in, then, "It's all right, Max. Really," he assured him. "I think I'll try and catch a nap until you get here. I didn't sleep well last night." 

"Nightmares again?" Max asked, worried. 

"No. Haven't had one for a while. Not since..." Michael sounded odd. "Not since Maria was over." He paused. "I just had a lot to do. Kept me up. You'll see when you get here." 

"I'll be there right after school, then." 

Isabel interrupted loudly. "I'm coming, too." 

"Isabel says--" 

"I heard her," Michael responded in a dry tone. "But let's just keep it down to the two of you, Maxwell. There are some things we need to talk about, just the three of us."  
  


*****

Michael was waiting for them at the pod chamber's entrance when they arrived. He squinted into the bright light, eyes adjusting after several days mostly spent in the dim recesses of the pod chamber. Isabel held her breath as she entered, but let it out as she took in the rolled-up sleeping bag and packed duffel. He must be coming back then. 

Michael actually looked a little nervous, standing there, waiting for them to broach the subject. But all he said was, "Close the door behind you." 

"What's going on, Michael?" Max asked, trying to show his concern and support through his tone of voice. 

Isabel didn't stand on ceremony. Crossing to her spiky-haired almost-brother, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a fierce hug. "We missed you, you idiot," she complained. "It seemed like forever." 

"Hey," Michael objected. "Cut it out, Izzy. Do you wanna see this or not?" 

Just to annoy him, she squeezed him even harder before stepping away. He didn't really seem to mind, though. Behind them, Max had finished closing off the cave, and the two siblings looked expectantly at their friend. Michael ran a nervous hand through his hair and tried to figure out where to start. 

Oh, to hell with it. "I made these," he said bluntly, picking up two of the blue crystals and tossing one to each of the others. "Out of rocks." Then he waited for their reaction. 

"You were able to use your powers?" Isabel exclaimed with a wide smile. "That's great!" Michael didn't bother to answer her, instead staring at Max, who was intently studying the stone he held. 

"Look at them, Isabel," her brother said, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the small crystal. "Don't they look...familiar somehow?" 

Isabel drew her attention away from Michael and glanced down at the stone she held. Her face wrinkled as she tried to remember where she'd seen one of them before. "Yes...yes, they do," she admitted. "What are they, Michael?" 

"I don't know," he answered gruffly. "But watch." Turning down the Coleman lantern, he stooped to gather up a handful of similar stones from a pile on the chamber floor. Isabel gave a little gasp as they began to glow in Michael's hand, sending out a pale bluish light. She and Max exchanged glances, then looked back at the glowing stones. 

"There's more," Michael said. Crossing to the side of the cave, he held his hands up and shone the light on the cave wall. The handprints immediately came into view. "Look," he added unnecessarily, since the other aliens were already fixed on the prints. "This one fits my hand," he explained, placing his palm against the glowing mark. Almost without volition, Max and Isabel each reached up and fitted their hands against a print. They matched perfectly. 

The three aliens looked at each other in silence for a few moments, before stepping back from the cave wall. "What do you think it means?" Isabel asked in a hushed tone. 

"I don't know," Michael responded. "But didn't you notice? There's a fourth handprint." He held the stones back up to illuminate the wall once more, and they all stared at the fourth, smaller print. 

"Tess," Isabel breathed. 

Max and Michael locked gazes. "So what should we do?" Michael asked. 

"I don't know. But let's not rush into anything, Michael. There's a lot to think about here." 

"Believe me, I know that," Michael answered with a snort. "I don't trust Tess Harding any more than you do. Not after last spring." 

"We've got a lot to talk about, Michael. We could talk on the way back to town, if you're ready to go back." 

Michael shrugged. "Yeah. I think I am. It's almost like I needed to come out here, and now that I found the prints, I'm done, you know?" 

"Good!" Isabel exclaimed. "Grab your stuff then, and let's get out of here. You need some real food, Michael. And a shower," she teased, darting out of his way with a laugh. Heading towards the door, she waved her hand over the silver palm print on the wall to open it, and strode through. 

Grabbing the sleeping bag and duffel, Max and Michael followed her to the chamber entrance. "I'm glad you're coming back, too, Michael," Max told his friend quietly. "Because there's something I need to talk to you about. I got a phone call last night..." 

"What, Maxwell?" 

Max shook his head. "In the Jeep. Isabel needs to hear this, too. It's important." 

Michael nodded and began to follow Max out the entrance. Stopping abruptly, he set down the duffel and crossed back to the pile of blue stones, grabbing a handful and tucking them into his pocket. Then he headed back after his friend. Time to go back to the real world and face some things. Figure out whatever these handprints meant, listen to whatever Max had to say, go back to school, see if he still had a job after leaving town for three and a half days...and, oh, yeah. Gear himself up to deal with Maria.  
  


*****

Amy DeLuca was in the middle of fixing a solitary dinner the next evening when the knock came. Crossing to the kitchen door, she raised her eyebrows in involuntary surprise at the tall figure standing there. Her jaw clenched. "She's not here," she said coldly through the glass door. 

"I didn't think she would be," Michael responded in a low voice. "I figured she'd be at school, getting ready for the play." He glanced uneasily away, then forced himself to meet her gaze squarely. "I came to see you." 

Her forehead wrinkled with suspicion, Amy opened the door just wide enough to peer between it and the jamb. "You're not going to change my mind about letting her see you," she warned. 

He shook his head. "That's not why I'm here," he told her quietly. His face remained stoic, but was that a hint of emotion in his eyes? No, she wouldn't let herself soften. Her daughter was too important, and this boy was bad news. Forget whatever momentary heroic actions he'd taken recently. Who knew what sort of trouble he could drag an unprotesting Maria into? Pregnancy, jail...or worse? 

"What, then?" she snapped. 

He visibly steeled himself, then blurted, "I'm staying away from her, okay? I haven't even said hello to her since--" His voice cut off, and he swallowed. 

This confirmed what Maria had told her last week. Amy's eyes narrowed. There was definitely emotion in his eyes, and pain, although he obviously was trying his hardest to hide them. 

"You wanted me to stay away, and I'm doing that," he forced out. "I just--" He broke off again, pausing, then rushed on, "Would you give this to her?" 

For the first time, Amy noticed the paper clutched in his hand. It was rolled into a tube and fastened with a rubber band. She stared blankly at it. 

"It's not a secret message or anything," he said defensively. "It's just something I kind of promised her." His chin out, he stood defiantly, daring her to doubt he'd keep his word. And somehow, she had to believe he would. 

This visit, whatever it was, was obviously difficult for him, and yet here he was, facing up to a woman who couldn't possibly be his favorite person right now. Well, that was putting it mildly. He was a teenager, with all the emotional storms that brought; if he had really felt something for her daughter, he probably hated Amy now. But he was here anyway, to keep some sort of promise. And if he kept this promise, mightn't he also keep the one to stay away from Maria? 

Without realizing it, she relaxed a little and allowed the door to swing open a bit more. 

"I know you don't trust me, but...You can look at it. See for yourself," he offered, thrusting the paper tube through the half-open door and into her hands before taking a quick step back and jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. He started to go, and then turned back abruptly. 

"Mrs. DeLuca?" 

She looked up from the rolled-up paper she held, lifting her eyes to study his face. 

He spoke intently. "If you decide to give it to her, do it in person, okay? Don't just leave it for her to find. She doesn't like that." His eyes, strangely vulnerable, met hers, and he blurted out one more word. "Please." Then he turned and moved swiftly towards the street and out of sight. 

Amy stood motionless until the beeping of her timer brought her out of her abstraction. Hurriedly placing the paper on the counter, she set about rescuing the piece of chicken she'd been reheating before the oven charred it out of recognition. Setting the pan on top of the stove, she dropped the potholder and turned to look at Michael's little gift. 

To be honest, she was torn. He'd hurt Maria on more than one occasion, most recently by totally ignoring her. Amy blocked out the little voice that reminded her that it was exactly what she had wanted, and concentrated on working up a full head of righteous indignation. She was furious with this...delinquent. She certainly didn't feel the need to do him any favors. 

So why then did she keep seeing the flash of pain in his eyes when he spoke about Maria? 

And what was that odd comment at the end, about Maria not liking things left for her to find? 

Amy shook her head. She should just tear this...whatever it was...up and get rid of it. Her daughter need never know about it. Maria would get over the boy in time, and it would be easier if she didn't have any more little reminders of him. 

But even as her brain was deciding one thing, her hands were acting on another. They carefully removed the rubber band, rolling it down the tube, and set it on the counter. They unrolled the heavy white paper and held it open, so she could fully take in what she was seeing. 

Her heart thumped in her chest as she studied the sketch. It was a portrait of her daughter, her eyes shining and her mouth curved into laughter. She was wearing the silly alien antennae that she always grumbled about having to wear as part of her Crashdown uniform. And at the bottom of the page, hidden in the cross-hatching of a penciled-in shadow from Maria's collar, Amy could just make out two tiny initials: MG. 

She blinked. That...that delinquent was capable of this? Maria looked so...real. So vibrant. So exactly like herself. And this boy--no, Amy, get used to using his name--this Michael, Michael Guerin, had drawn it? How could he be this talented, this...sensitive? With the life he'd had, where had he learned to create something so beautiful?  
  


*****

Another door, another knock. Pushing himself off the couch he'd been sitting on, lost in thought, Michael headed for the door. He didn't bother glancing at the clock, but he knew it was late. His visitor was probably Max, getting even for all the times Michael had burst in at odd hours. 

So he was visibly startled when, instead of Max, he found Maria DeLuca at his door. After a moment of shock, his face hardened, and he began to swing the door shut in her face. 

Maria put out a hand to keep it open. "Don't. It's okay. My mother knows I'm here." He looked suspiciously at her, and the corners of her mouth curved upward. "Really," she assured him. "Actually, she drove me. She's waiting in the car. So the only thing that could possibly keep us from talking is you," she challenged. 

He looked at her for a moment, obviously trying to think this through, before holding the door open for her. "You wanna come in?" he asked hoarsely. 

"I can't," she responded, then smiled ruefully. "I got her to unbend far enough to let me come, but I'm not allowed inside your apartment. Believe me, considering the fact that I'm still grounded, this is pretty good." A moment of silence as she tried to figure out how to broach the subject of why she was there, and he just looked at her, and she finally opened her mouth and said, "You were at the play tonight. For opening night." 

His only response was a shrug. 

"Hey, I can feel you, remember? I could feel you out in the audience, and I knew when you left as soon as it was over. I know you don't want to be anywhere near me now, so..." She missed the slight darkening of his eyes, and continued, "Thank you for coming. It really meant a lot to me." 

"I had to make sure the plants worked out okay," he managed. 

"Oh. Right." She ran her fingers nervously over the hem of her jacket. "Well, I also wanted to give you this," she said, fishing in her pocket and pulling out a folded piece of notebook paper. "I said I'd keep it until you drew me another one, remember?" 

Michael didn't have to look at it to know it was the substitute sketch of her he'd drawn so many weeks ago. He held it tightly, paying no heed to the wrinkles he was putting into it. In front of him, Maria was still talking about the new drawing. So Mrs. DeLuca had given it to her after all. He hadn't been sure she would. 

"...and it's beautiful, Michael. You made me look so beautiful. You obviously used a lot of artistic license there, but--" 

He interrupted her. "It looks exactly like you," he stated baldly. 

This floored her for a full eight seconds. Did Michael just say, in his own roundabout way, that he thought she was beautiful? He'd never said that before. Well, she'd figured that he found her somewhat attractive, because of all the making out they'd done last year, but he'd never actually _said_ it before. Of course, he wasn't particularly verbal, either... 

She shook her head as a more likely reason for his comment occurred to her. "Of course, you would say that," she snorted. "Have to defend your skill as an artist, right?" 

Michael didn't answer, and she hastened on, "Well, anyway, I think it's beautiful. Thank you, Michael." 

He kept his response down to a curt nod. 

Wow, this was going great, wasn't it? She shuffled nervously from foot to foot. All she had to do was say it, get it out there and over with, and then she could go. That wouldn't be so bad, right? 

Michael unwittingly gave her the impetus to speak. "Is that all? Because I was kinda in the middle of something," he said, ignoring the fact that the something he'd been in the middle of was sitting on his couch and staring at the wall. 

"Actually, no. It wasn't," Maria said, taking a deep breath. "I told my mom all about it," she said. 

"**WHAT?**" he roared, reaching out and grabbing her by the shoulders. "What did you--" 

"No, no, it's okay, Michael. I didn't tell her about..." She looked around the empty hallway but decided to be circumspect. "I didn't tell her where you're from. I would _never_ do that, I promise. After the last year, you should know that by now." 

Some of the tension drained from him, and he let go of her. "I do. It's just..." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "What did you tell her, then?" 

Maria bit her lip. "Well, she had a lot of questions about the drawing, and about why you didn't want her to just leave it for me--way to cause suspicion there, by the way, Michael--and I ended up telling her all about Melanie and the notes and why I was really at your place that night. How you were trying to figure out who was sending them, and that you were protecting me." 

"You did." It wasn't a question, but she nodded. 

"Yeah. And after a long lecture about how I shouldn't have kept it a secret from her in the first place--which I couldn't exactly argue about, since she has no idea of the real reason I had to--she decided that..." Maria took another deep breath and rushed on, "maybe you weren't so bad and it was okay to talk to you." 

No reaction from Michael. 

"So of course I wanted to talk to you right away, but I knew you'd hang up the phone if I called, and I thought maybe I'd have better luck in person, and she agreed I could come but she was going to drive me because it's after midnight on a school night, and no daughter of hers was going to roam the town by herself at this hour..." She heard herself babbling and forcibly cut herself off. 

"Anyway, I don't think she particularly likes you, but she's willing to give you a chance. So there's nothing keeping us apart except you." She swallowed. "I'm sure you've heard about my little announcement at lunch last week, so it shouldn't be a surprise that I still love you. So I guess whatever happens next is up to you. And if you want to keep ignoring me, there's not a lot I can do about it. But I hope...Can we at least be friends?" 

Maria looked up at his expressionless face. It had never seemed so hard to read as it did then, as she waited, heart pounding, for his response. She could practically see the little alien gizmos in his brain working, as he tried to come up with the words to express whatever was on his mind. 

But when he finally spoke, it had nothing to do with her question. "So is your middle name really Ursula?" 

What? Of all the responses she had imagined, this was certainly not one of them. Her face wrinkled up with confusion, but she answered him. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. It's horrible, I know, but it was my great-grandmother's name." 

"That would make your initials M-U-D," he said flatly. 

Chalk up a bonus point for Mr. Brilliance. "Yeah. So?" 

And then for the first time that evening, a hint of expression crossed his face. One lip began to twitch upwards, and then Michael Guerin actually laughed. Oh sure, it was a just a small chuckle, but still...He looked away, shaking his head. "No wonder it never worked," he muttered. 

"What never worked?" she asked, hoping he would continue talking to her instead of shutting her out. 

He did, but his eyes avoided hers as he explained, "Last year, before we...when I was trying to stay away from you, remember? I used to think about mud to take my mind off of you." 

She smiled then, remembering the UFO convention, and how he'd blurted out the word after she'd kissed him in the wrestling ring. "Mud, huh?" 

"Yeah." He turned and met her gaze squarely, giving her a crooked smile. "Never worked, though." 

"It didn't?" she squeaked. 

"Nope." His half-smile grew into a full-fledged smirk. "All that time, I thought I was thinking about mud, and I was still just thinking about MUD. You." He looked down at her, studying her carefully as if she had become someone brand new. 

A rosy glow spread across her cheeks, and she suddenly felt very self-conscious. She had gotten so used to him avoiding her that now it seemed very odd to be under his scrutiny. Good, but odd. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from his. "So, ummm..." she mumbled. "I'd better go before Mom comes after me." She hesitated. "About before...about our friendship...well, just think about it, okay? You can let me know." 

She started to back away, ready to bolt down the hall. Michael didn't let her. His hand shot out and took her by the shoulder. "I don't need to think about it," he told her. "I can't be friends with you." 

She dropped her eyes down away from his face, focusing on his chest but not seeing it. She swallowed, and managed to get out one word. "Oh." 

"I wish I could. It would be safer. But it's too hard. I can't do it," he said fiercely, running a hand through his hair. 

She knew all about hard. But she'd thought it was better than never seeing him at all. She guessed she was wrong. Still not looking up at him, she nodded her head quickly. "Okay," she said in a small voice. "G..Goodbye then, Michael." Against her will, tears started to well up in her eyes and she moved away from him, not wanting him to see her cry. 

"No--don't--" he began, then realized. "Dammit," he said under his breath. He took a few steps and caught up with her, then gently pulled her back to his doorway. "Stay here," he ordered, propping her up against the doorjamb and holding her in place. "I wasn't finished, lamebrain." 

His final word had the desired effect. Her eyes, no longer threatening tears, shot up to meet his. "Lamebrain?" she burst out. "This coming from you, Michael Guerin? That's kind of ironic, don't you think?" 

"Yeah, I know," he said calmly. "But you're still gonna listen to me, got it?" When he was certain she wasn't going to move, he released her shoulders. "I get the feeling you think I'm trying to bail on you again. That I don't...Hell, this is hard." He looked away from her, and continued in a low voice, "I guess I can't blame you for thinking that, after everything I've done. But I didn't mean..." Another pause, then he rushed on, "Look. Staying away from you? Not an option any more. I don't want that. I want..." He trailed off, trying to find the words that would explain it, that would make her understand. 

Somehow Maria found her voice. "What do you want, Michael?" she asked in a low tone. 

He gave up on his search for the right words. "You," he said baldly. She was silent, and his eyes flickered towards hers, trying to catch her reaction. "I want you, Maria," he repeated. "But there's too much getting in the way of that, and I just don't know how it could work." 

"We could just go on being together in private. You know, be Eraser Room buddies or whatever," she offered, her cheeks reddening. "I'll take what I can get," she admitted, almost hating herself for being so needy. 

He shook his head. "No. You deserve more. And I...I think I do too." 

"Where does that leave us then?" she asked. "Not apart, not friends, not together...We're nowhere." 

"I didn't say we couldn't be together," he objected. "Just not in a horndog kinda way." He registered what he'd said and corrected himself quickly. "Or not just in that way, I mean. I want more than that." 

"What?" she asked softly. 

Michael searched his thoughts, trying to put what he was feeling into words. "I want to be friends," he decided. 

"But you said we couldn't--" 

"Not _just_ friends," he admitted. "'Cause I want that, but I want the other, too." 

"You do?" she breathed. 

"Yeah." He seemed almost hesitant. "If that's okay with you." 

She smiled then, a wide, genuine, delighted smile. "Well, of course it is! What do you think I've been waiting around for, you big dope?" 

"A stubborn, screwed-up loser from another planet?" he responded with a smirk. 

"A pig-headed, complex _loner_ from another planet," she corrected firmly. He shook his head and reached out to touch her cheek, very softly. His face grew serious. 

"There's still a lot I have to work out," he said. "I still have all the questions that come from being who I am. It's not gonna be easy," he warned. "I mean, no matter how I feel about you, I'm still me. I still suck at dealing with a lot of this...human stuff." 

"It doesn't matter," she assured him. "I mean, yes, you drive me crazy sometimes, but it's okay. It's part of what makes you _you_. A challenge," she added, her eyes sparkling. "And besides, you're not the only one with faults, you know." 

"Oh yeah?" he drawled. 

"I'm not perfect either. I can get a little too dramatic at times, and I'm not a brain in school like Liz, and I can be irresponsible sometimes, and everyone knows I'm kind of flaky, and have I mentioned that when I get uncomfortable I tend to babble?" 

Smirking, Michael covered her mouth with a large hand. "No, really?" he deadpanned. "It's a good thing that I'm around then. 'Cause I know just how to calm you down." 

Maria smiled up at him, putting her arms around his neck and holding on tightly. "Good, because with the whole Czechoslovakian situation, I may need a whole lot of calming down." 

He looked back down at her, his eyes growing very dark, before muttering, "I may need some myself."  
  


*****

Michael watched in amusement as Maria skipped down the stairs leading towards the front door of his apartment building. Once again, their kissing had been interrupted, this time by the blaring of the Jetta's horn. Maria had dragged her lips from his, saying, "Oops. Gotta go." When he had shown absolutely no inclination to release her, she'd wriggled out of his arms. "I can't take any more chances on making my mom angry again," she'd reminded him. "I am not going to blow this." With a quick peck on the lips, she'd whispered, "I love you, Spaceboy," before darting towards the stairs. 

And all he'd been able to manage was a hastily blurted, "Ditto." 

She'd laughed delightedly, calling back, "I know!" 

Now Michael watched as her shining blonde head disappeared; then he slowly headed back inside his apartment. Throwing himself down on his couch, he relaxed, in a much better mood than he'd been in earlier. So what if they still had their enemies to fight, and Nasedo was trying to keep secrets from him--the shapeshifter should have realized that Max would have told him all about his mysterious phone call. And so what if there was a new mystery, about shining blue crystals and hidden handprints? Michael felt better than he had in a very long time. Like maybe, just maybe, he could handle whatever happened next. 

Oh, yeah. Things were definitely looking up.  
  
  
  


_EPILOGUE_

Michael woke with a start, panting in the dark room. His mind raced, trying to remember the details of the nightmare he'd been swept up in. All he could get was a sense of panic and confusion, then pain. He wasn't sure if the feelings had been his or someone else's. 

The only thing he could remember clearly was a sound, a word, in a familiar voice. It still rang in his ears. 

_Killer_. 

Only this time, it didn't sound like an accusation. 

This time, it sounded like a warning.  
  
  
  


_THE END_  
  
  
A/N: Well, that's it for this story. There will be a sequel, which will address some of the unanswered questions from this story. I hope you've enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
  
  
[kLyn][1]

   [1]: mailto:klyn66@hotmail.com



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